


prodigal son

by astralgabriel



Series: prodigal son verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Fix-It, Gabriel has no self-worth, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Past Torture, Psychological Torture, side destiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-06-15 17:39:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15418143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralgabriel/pseuds/astralgabriel
Summary: Michael's arrogance leaves Gabriel stranded in the alternate reality, graceless and bleeding out. However, he, like many, failed to account for Gabriel's sheer stubbornness and devotion to humanity, and that mistake will cost him gravely.





	1. Chapter 1

In. Out.

In. Out.

In. Out.

Trembling fingers clutched at the open wound on his neck, slick with red.

In. Out.

In. Out.

The blood stains threw the deathly pallor of his skin into harsh contrast. A small reminder that just minutes ago, he’d lay lifeless on the ground.

In. Out.

Michael and Lucifer were gone. He was alone now.

He needed to calm down, needed to think.

In. Out.

Gabriel had thought he was dead. The archangel blade buried in his abdomen should’ve been a one way ticket to the Empty. It should’ve finally been over.

Instead, Gabriel had awoken to the agonising pain of his shredded essence being shoved back into a broken vessel. The smell of burned flesh and charred feathers still permeated through the air. Gabriel gagged as he realised it was his flesh and feathers.

It was the ashen imprints of his own burned wings that spread out around him.

They’d heal eventually.

Hopefully.

“In. Out,” he mumbled to himself, but his voice was as shaky as his hands.

Gabriel remembered the way Michael stood over him, grinning in a way that made his heart drop. Lucifer was worse though - the fallen archangel watched on with a detached interest, amusement curling the edges of his lips slightly.

As Michael’s archangel blade came into sight, Gabriel felt himself panic. He desperately pushed himself away, gritting his teeth through the burning agony of his stab wound. Michael simply looked entertained, leaving Gabriel to hopelessly scrabble backwards.

“Not even a thank you, little brother?” Michael had sneered, eyeing him up like a predator would size up injured prey.

Gabriel was under no delusions - he had no real chance of escape. Michael was on him in an instant, crouching down so they were both at eye level, his smirk wide and cruel.

“In. Out,” he said, forcing himself to internalise the words, slow his breathing rhythm.

A wordless sob slipped from his lips as Michael’s hand curled through his hair and yanked back roughly. This couldn’t be happening again. Not again.

Michael had grinned, wide and predatory as he drew his blade across Gabriel’s neck, leaving a thin red line in its wake. Gabriel felt the tears roll down across his cheeks, felt his chest heaving in panic, felt the soul deep, agonising rip as his grace was tore from his core yet again.

Lucifer simply watched, bored, as Michael stole from his younger brother in the most intimate way possible, and that hurt more than almost everything Asmodeus had put him through.

Michael ran his hand gently over Gabriel’s cheek, whispered mocking gratitudes in his ear. When the last fragment of grace was drained and Gabriel was little more than a shaking mess, Michael let the younger archangel fall limply to the ground, framed once more by charred wings.

“In. Out,” he said again, firmer. The tremor in his voice was almost gone.

They didn’t heal the cut on his neck. They didn’t even look back once.

They’d left him here to die. That, Gabriel was very aware of.

With no grace to heal himself, and no miraculous help on the horizon, Gabriel would bleed out alone, in an empty field, in a universe he didn’t belong in.

A disappointing death was a fitting end to an equally disappointing life.

“In. Out.”

The last thing Gabriel needed right now was to have a panic attack. He needed to ground himself in reality, needed to think. Death didn’t scare him, he was too old to fear eternity now, but the idea of dying alone as nothing more than a used object did.

Loki being right scared him.

Loki couldn’t be right.

Gabriel pushed himself up, jaw clenched tight as he groaned through the pain, one arm wrapped around his stomach. Shaky on his feet, his legs feeling like they could give out at any moment, Gabriel forced himself forwards, one step at a time.

He needed to find people. A base camp maybe, or anything. Angels were bad and to be avoided, as were demons and most any other supernatural being. Hopefully, though, without his grace, humans would take pity on him, mistake him for one of their own.

The greyed out trees seemed to stretch on for eternity in every direction. Everything was blurring into the same, and Gabriel knew his odds of survival were dwindling. He’d lost clarity of mind, couldn’t even recall which direction he’d stumbled from.

“In. Out,” he mumbled to himself, his chest heaving as he leaned against a tree trunk, trying to catch his breath.

Gabriel knew that all that was driving him now was sheer desperation. He’d lost a dangerous amount of blood, as his stained clothes and bright red hands could attest. He was shivering, both from the dropping temperatures and his complete lack of grace.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

It became a mantra in his head, echoing over and over even as the edges of his vision began crackle and fade. Gabriel used the trees as supports to stabilise himself as he swayed.

Wait.

In the distance, something seemed to move. Gabriel wasn’t certain, wasn’t sure he could even trust his eyes anymore, but he had to try.

“Hey!” Gabriel yelled, coughing. Dad help him, he hated that he was reduced to this, pleading for help from a complete stranger. “Over here! Please!”

Something definitely moved.

Slowly, at first, like it was nervous and unsure, then quicker, an urgency fuelling its movement.

It took Gabriel a moment to realise he wasn’t standing anymore, he was down on his knees, one hand splayed against the ground as the other clutched at his stomach. He looked up slowly, neck muscles protesting, and the blur was closer now, making some kind of noise. Saying something, probably.

Gabriel fell onto his front as something touched his shoulder, no longer finding the strength to hold himself up.

He felt hands gripping him, rolling him onto his back, pressing against pulse points.

Gabriel knew he needed to be more aware, that he could just be falling into the hands of someone with bad intentions, but something about the presence soothed him. There was something so strangely familiar about the warmth pressed against his soul, Gabriel couldn’t help but trust them.

As arms looped about his shoulders and under his knees, Gabriel let the darkness finally drag him under, head falling limply back.


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel came around slowly.

He kept his eyes closed, breathing steady as the fogginess of sleep rolled away. Something was wrong, and he had no intentions of indicating he was awake until he figured out what.

Last Gabriel remembered, he was crumpled on the cold forest floor, losing blood at an alarming rate, yet now, he was lay out in what felt like a bed. Soft pillows propped his head up; a warm blanket was draped over his body, gentle across his bare chest.

Something long and strange pressed under the skin of his hand. Gabriel couldn’t identify it from past memories, but he knew it stirred up a deep discomfort within him.

Gabriel paused. Bare chest. He was definitely wearing a shirt earlier - a rather bloody, ruined one granted - but now it was gone. A spike of fear shot through him, till he felt his fingers press against what seemed like loose pyjama bottoms. His boxers were definitely still there too, he could feel the waistband digging ever so slightly into his hips.

Nothing nearby felt malicious either, not that that was enough for Gabriel to feel safe. He’d learned the hard way to never let his guard down.

Gabriel had almost lost himself in his thoughts, trying to figure out what he could, when he felt fingers touching his neck and instinct took over.

Gabriel’s eyes opened wide, staring up at the young woman touching his neck, and she stared back in shock. The familiar horror fuelled him as he batted her hands away, pushed himself away from the threat. Pain burned through his abdomen, making Gabriel feel sick - he drew in a sharp breath as he tried to back away from her touch, the chorus of _not again, please not again_ echoing in the back of his mind.

“Hey. Hey, calm down. You’re safe here,” the woman said, hands up placatingly as she backed off. Gabriel huffed, jaw clenched through the pain as he pushed himself into a sitting position, back pressed against the wall.

“Sure,” he growled out, wincing at the twinge of pain that spread across the front of his neck. Gabriel lifted a trembling hand to his throat, his lips parting in confusion when his fingertips pressed against soft fabric instead of torn skin.

“It’s a bandage,” the woman said, still holding her hands in clear view. For the first time since waking, Gabriel noticed the man stood just behind her, regarding him with a cool curiosity. “I was just checking your bandages.”

Glancing down, he saw the myriad of white strips wrapped around his abdomen. That explained the slight itching feeling.

“You think if you weren’t safe here, we’d take care of your injuries, and let you wake up on a bed, unrestrained?”

“Forgive me for not immediately trusting two complete strangers,” Gabriel snapped sarcastically, feeling what little grace he had sparking with hostility, buried deep in his chest. The woman shuffled nervously; Gabriel noticed the two looked quite alike.

The man must’ve caught the way his gaze kept flickering between the two humans and the exit, sizing up an escape route. He stepped aside, opening up a clear path, and said, “You’re free to leave any time you want. You’re not our prisoner.”

Gabriel hated the way he still tensed every so slightly at that word, at everything that word held for him. He might have survived, but Asmodeus had carved his impact deep into Gabriel’s psyche, it’d never fully heal.

“Look,” the man said, lifting up the bottom of his shirt and turning around, “neither of us are armed, and to be honest, I’m pretty shit at fighting anyways.”

“It’s true,” the woman laughed, a little forced. “I used to beat him all the time when we wrestled.”

Gabriel knew they were putting on a show for him, trying to diffuse the situation and calm him down, and he hated that it was working. He was slowly slipping out of the fight or flight mindset - neither of these humans felt like they had bad intentions, nor did they feel like threats.

He let his shoulders slump ever so slightly, let the aggressive snarl fall from his lips, instead reflecting his thoughts with a tired grimace. The tension broke, and the woman audibly sighed. The man slipped into the chair next to the bed, far more at ease now.

“I’ll tell you something, it was touch and go for a while. My mom and I had to work a lot of magic to keep you stable.”

“Magic?”

“Mhm. Witches,” the young man replied, offering up a lazy smile. “I’m Max Banes, that’s my sister, Alicia. Doctor, not witch. And you are?”

Gabriel froze. He needed to think, needed to come up with a cover lie, but he felt so exhausted. He grabbed for the first name that came to mind - “I’m Mark Watney.” - then winced. Maybe the book hadn’t come out in this reality, or maybe they hadn’t read it.

Based on the way the young man - Max - raised one eyebrow, amused, Gabriel figured he wasn’t going to be that lucky. “We know you’re an angel,” Max said, and Gabriel tensed. Max simply shook his head and continued, “and we know you had a scrap with Michael. An enemy of our enemy is a friend, and all that.”

Gabriel glanced over to Alicia, who nodded. “We have a few renegade angels in our camp already, ones who defected from Heaven. We’re not going to shoot on sight.”

Still, Gabriel’s weariness persisted. Granted, he couldn’t feel any warding in the room. They weren’t attempting to hold him here in any manner, which settled his anxiety a little.

The problem was his status - this camp might welcome angels, but archangels were a whole other issue. It was an archangel that brought their world to ruin, that terrorised them for 7 years straight, that had the blood of their friends and family on its hands.

This kindness could snap into hostility if they knew, and Gabriel wouldn’t blame them. They had every right to fear his species, to hate his title; hell, Gabriel’s own track record was stained and murky. He didn’t front genocides, like Michael, but his pagan history had left more blood on his hands than he could ever hope to wash off.

“Can we not do this right now? I’m drained, literally, and really need to catch a few hours.”

Gabriel caught how Max’s lips tightened into a small frown at the double meaning in Gabriel’s words, but it morphed back into an easy smile almost instantly as Max nodded. “I’ll be back later to check on your bandages,” Alicia said, flashing Gabriel a grin as she followed Max out the room. “Sleep well!”

The room felt so much colder in the absence of their bright souls, and memories of dark, soulless places tugged on the edge of Gabriel’s mind. He knew that he should stay awake and assess the situation, that falling asleep now would just end in night terrors, but Gabriel couldn’t resist the siren call of slumber, and let himself drift.

* * *

Gabriel woke to the sound of his own screams, his throat shredded raw.

Everything was dark again and he couldn’t see. Couldn’t feel. Isolation was one of the worst punishments; no warmth from souls, none of their bright glow which instilled Gabriel with hope. Nothing. Just him and his thoughts, slowly torturing himself.

Outside, there was a rhythmic thumping, growing ever closer.

Asmodeus was coming.

Gabriel curled into the corner of the room, up by the pillows, knees drawn tight to his chest. He couldn’t do this anymore. Not anymore. He couldn’t handle anything else.

As the door creaked open, a figure silhouetted by the gentle moonlight, Gabriel whimpered.

He hated it. Hated what Asmodeus had reduced him to.

Two more figures appeared behind the first, and Gabriel pulled his knees ever tighter against his chest, trying to curl up as small as possible. He winced as the light flickered on, tucking his head against his knees, hands cupping the back of his neck, trying to protect himself.

“What the...”

“Is he okay? What’s wrong with him?”

“I... don’t know.”

“Hannah, see if you can reach out to him.”

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise...”

Gabriel could hear the voices and the individual words they spoke, but his mind refused to process them, to give meaning to the noises. It didn’t matter - they’d stop talking and start hurting soon.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Soft feathers brushed along his arm, across tensed muscles, before soothingly pressing against his own charred wings. The familiar warmth was back, this time enveloping his own waning grace, reassuring it. Safe, it said, and Gabriel believed it.

Under the gentle embrace he felt himself relax, the vice grip around his legs loosening. His breathing fell into a steady rhythm again, instead of the frantic staccato beats of moments before.

This was not Asmodeus’ cell, for such brightness and brilliance could not survive there.

“Can you hear me?” a soft voice murmured from nearby, melodic and light. Gabriel nodded as he slowly opened his eyes, greeted by a wide, hopeful smile, and eyes the colour of vibrant grace blue, even without her angelic nature on show. She pulled back ever so slightly, allowing Gabriel to catch a glimpse of Max and Alicia over her shoulder, each sporting a blend of confusion and concern.

“I’m Hannah,” she said, and Gabriel’s attention snapped back to her. Looking beyond the vessel, at the image of her true faces, all beaming down at him, Gabriel felt his heart crack. This being was so much like his little sister, the naive yet deeply empathetic fledgling he remembered from his time in Heaven.

And yet there were marks he couldn’t remember, scars marring her brilliant form, ugly and winding across her being, some of them still fresh and healing; Gabriel didn’t have to guess why. Michael had no use for empathetic angels, he needed mindless killing machines.

This was not his Hannah.

His Hannah was dead.

Hannah must’ve noticed the downturn in his mood, and pressed her wings against his again, cocooning him in her embrace. “It’s okay brother,” she said, regarding him fondly. “You’re safe here. I found you, you’re safe now.”

Gabriel allowed himself a moment more to enjoy the comfort, before he shattered it with a simple “I’m not your brother.”

Hannah tilted her head, birdlike in her confusion. Gabriel briefly wondered if Hannah’s vessel was a Novak descendant, her dark brown and piercing blue eyes disturbingly alike Castiel’s.

“I’m... not from this world,” Gabriel said, and Max’s frown melted into understanding.

“Like that nephilim kid?”

“Bingo.”

“Wait, hold up,” Alicia interrupted, “you’re telling me this whole alternate reality stuff is real?”

“Precisely,” Gabriel replied, offering a sympathetic smile. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all. It’s some Twilight Zone shit.”

A silence fell upon the room; Gabriel wasn’t sure if they were processing the existence of the multiverse, or if his reference made no sense in this reality.

“Brother?” Hannah said, and Gabriel looked up and grimaced. Not his Hannah. He had stop mixing her up with his own little sister. “What happened? Why did you come to our world?”

“Spark notes version - I ended up owing two morons a lot, and they cared about the nephilim, Jack, a lot. Oh, and their mom was stranded here too. Wild.” Gabriel shrugged in a _what can you do?_ manner and carried on.

“So I agreed to lend a hand. Wasn’t enough juice in the tank, so me and a... a friend went and caught the Devil, tore a hole in the space-time continuum, etc. Everything was going grand, we’d almost fully evacuated through the portal, when Michael caught us. I offered myself up to buy time, got myself shish-kebabed on his blade.”

Gabriel fake shuddered, deflecting from the actual tremor that ran through him when he remembered the sensation of his grace combusting and burning him from the inside out.

“Anyways, turns out Mikey made a deal with the Devil. He resurrected me, somehow, stole my, uh, my grace, and ran on over to my world. I was left stranded, bleeding out, about to bite the dust, and the rest is history.”

Hannah blinked owlishly at him, and Gabriel had to suppress the urge to laugh. That urge only grew as he caught the utter bewilderment of Max and Alicia too.

“I- I think I have a question?”

“Go for it, feathers,” Gabriel replied. Hannah just looked even more confused.

“I thought- the spell, for opening rifts. Doesn’t it take a... You know?”

Gabriel sighed. Part of him still screamed that this was an awful idea, that though they were accepting of angels, he was essentially a whole other species. One which they had every right to resent.

On the other hand, they’d shown him nothing but kindness. They’d taken a stranger they’d found bleeding out in the wilderness and patched him up. They hadn’t forced any answers from him, happy to wait for him to grow comfortable enough to tell them instead.

He really, really hoped he wasn’t about to regret this.

“Gabriel.”

“What?”

“My name is Gabriel.”

“The archangel?”

Gabriel simply nodded. He hadn’t felt like an archangel for a long time.

“Explains why it took so long to stabilise you,” Max replied nonchalantly. Gabriel felt underwhelmed - the young witch was acting as though they’d ran out of milk, a simple problem, not that Gabriel had just dropped his status as one of the four original creations.

“That’s it? No awestruck staring? No running in horror, given that, y’know, my brothers trashed your world?”

Max looked vaguely amused and shrugged. “You don’t really seem like the type who’d lay waste to our basecamp.”

“If you wanted to hurt us, you would’ve done so already. We’ve all heard the stories about archangels, about how they’re fearsome warriors, unstoppable and absolute.”

Gabriel had to bite his cheeks to stop a bitter laugh. Lucifer and Michael, sure, they were both shaped into weapons by their god given destinies - they never stood a chance. Raphael, maybe. The third born had always been more of a tactician and healer, and certainly didn’t have the raw strength of his older brothers, but he was still a dangerous fighter.

Gabriel, no. Maybe once, a long time ago, but the fight was gone from him now. His words were his weapon of choice now, choosing to mentally spar over clashing swords, but recent events had left his confidence in language in tatters.

“I need to find a way home.”

* * *

To say Sam wasn’t holding up well was an understatement. There was an entire bunker of Apocalypse world refugees, depending on him to hold it together. Michael had dropped completely off the radar, leaving everyone on edge, waiting for the penny to drop.

Sam hardly slept anymore. Every waking moment he could spare was spent in the library, coffee cradled in one hand, the other free to flip through pages. Rowena agreed to give him a magical energy boost once every few days, but he’d caught the way her gaze lingered as he walked away, the worry that creased her brow.

Castiel wasn’t doing much better, his time stretched thin between Heaven and the Bunker. If it was Castiel’s choice, he would’ve remained permanently on Earth, helping track down Michael, but the edges of Heaven had began to crack and crumble away.

Heaven was dying, and all the angels could do was gather in the heart of the afterlife realm, offering what little grace was left between them to delay the inevitable.

And Jack... Well, Sam was fairly certain Jack was depressed.

In the wake of losing his grace, Jack had also lost the spark behind his eyes. He was a lot more closed off, his replies were cut short and spoken in a dulled tone. Sam had tried to talk with him, as had Castiel, but he’d just looked at them both with such a heartbreaking hopelessness and gone back to his room.

It was as though the bunker was shrouded in misery, and Sam wasn’t sure how to make it dissipate.

He wasn’t even sure he wanted it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i hope you enjoyed this update!! the next update will take a little longer as i have some major exams coming up which take priority, sorry about that
> 
> i'm toying with the idea of hannah crossing back over with gabriel - she wouldn't play a major role in this fic, but would in the sequel, let me know what you think please!!
> 
> as always, comments and kudos truly do make my day!!


	3. Chapter 3

It was five days before Alicia gave Gabriel the all clear to start moving around again.

It was a difficult five days. Gabriel’s mind had split into two voices, warring over staying put and recovering, and running as far and as fast as he could. In his current condition, Gabriel doubted he’d get very far alone, and at least here, he was afforded some measure of safety, even if it was still difficult to believe that.

Alicia’s regular visits helped quell some of his worries. Where Max was gifted in the art of magic, Alicia was a talented medic; her fingers were deft and light as she unwound and re-wrapped dressings, quickly learning that Gabriel was averse to unnecessary touch, especially on his neck.

Trust came quickly as Alicia never pressed for answers, just made light conversation to keep Gabriel otherwise occupied as she checked his wounds. It worked. Gabriel learned about she had resented herself at first, for not being born magical like her mother and brother. It wasn’t till it was Alicia’s own hands and quick thinking that saved a life out on the field, and she realised that she didn’t need magic to make a difference.

Any medical books they found, Alicia studied religiously. She fast became the unofficial “doctor” of the base camp, fusing her experience with the supernatural and her new knowledge to treat patients, human and inhuman alike. Gabriel resolved to teach her a few things he remembered from Raphael before he left this world.

It was Alicia who grounded him back in reality when he woke from a particularly bad nightmare, speaking gently until his mind regained lucidity.

“What- Is, uh, Asmodeus still alive, over here?” Gabriel had asked that night, his voice low, eyes fixed on his hands as they twisted in his pyjama bottoms.

Alicia just smiled in sympathy at him, and shook her head. “No,” she said gently, “he’s dead. He’s been dead for years.”

Gabriel let out a sigh of relief, tension spilling out as his shoulders sagged. “How?”

“From what I’ve heard, you killed him,” Alicia replied, and Gabriel’s head had snapped up at that. “Our version of you, that is. He’d trapped a young angel, tried to take their grace. You killed him for that, burnt him alive.”

A cold, satisfied smirk curled at the edges of Gabriel’s lips; there was something fulfilling in knowing that he’d brought about Asmodeus’ end in multiple realities.

“Did he- Is that...?” Alicia cut herself off. Gabriel gave no verbal answer, but the way his gaze fell to the floor, hands anxiously tugging at and playing with the pyjama bottoms, Alicia knew.

She didn’t push further, and he was grateful for that - the memories haunted his dreams, he wasn’t sure he could handle deliberately dredging them up.

Hannah visited often too - she took a vested interest in Gabriel, and he found that he didn’t mind. The presence of another angel, her own grace a jarring juxtaposition of familiarity and unknown, soothed Gabriel in a way that human words couldn’t.

With every visit, it became harder to separate this Hannah and his Hannah. They both shared the same deeply empathetic nature, their true voices were both melodic and calm. Where his Hannah was innocent, though, this Hannah was somewhat jaded by Michael’s tyranny and the ongoing war.

She retained her joyful mindset, but occasionally a note rang sour, slipping slightly off key. She was less of an optimist, and more of a realist.

Still, despite the almost constant company, Gabriel was relieved to finally get the all-clear.

Bed rest had left him feeling like a tangled mess of anxiety, energy and boredom, and he still knew disturbingly little about this camp.

Hannah helped him shrug on a fluffy white robe and watched as he tied it gently around his waist, hovering at his shoulder as he took his first steps beyond the safety of the small cabin, out into the world.

Gabriel gaped at the sight before him - the camp bustled with life, but it was a far cry from the other camp. Humans and angels walked side by side, werewolves and daywalker vampires interweaved as though their species hadn’t warred for millenia. The signature earthy aura of a pagan forest god permeated through the air, subtle to the unaware, yet overwhelmingly cloying to those who could sense.

He stepped forward on unsteady legs, one arm still curled protectively about his stomach. Loose earth shifted underfoot, small rocks digging into the bare soles of his feet, but Gabriel hardly noticed, transfixed by everything around him.

Death should’ve clutched him tight - Gabriel knew his survival was nothing short of a miracle. He should’ve died back there, alone and mortal and scared, and yet here he stood, surrounded by life.

A few passing creatures cast him a second glance, but most pressed on in their own daily tasks. Though his attire stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of green and brown camouflage, Gabriel was otherwise invisible. In an army jacket, he could blend in unnoticed - before, that would’ve terrified him, but now it thrilled him.

From a visible general of Heaven’s army, to a prominent figure in multiple religions, a theatrical pagan god, to the prized possession of a sadistic demon, Gabriel had lived his life under a spotlight.

The prospect of going unseen and unheard, even just for a few moments, excited him.

Gabriel let his gradually healing grace pulse out around him, casting feelers out across the entire camp. It wasn’t a large settlement, just over two hundred beings residing in its walls, but it was well fortified. Gabriel could feel his grace pressing against the protective spell work lining the perimeter, keeping the camp under the radar.

Weaving through cabins and tents, Gabriel traced out and memorised the layout of the camp. Before he even actively realised, he began to identify the fastest escape routes. It frustrated Gabriel how this was instinct now - the camp and its people had offered nothing but safety, but he still now knew the three fastest ways across the perimeter.

Gabriel pulled back into himself, drawing a sharp breath at the recoil of his grace. Hannah caught him as he stumbled slightly, hand grippingly inhumanely tight about his upper arm.

“Don’t strain yourself, Gabriel,” she said softly, smiling at him. “You are still recovering.”

“Yeah, I know, I just- I don’t know how to explain it, kid,” Gabriel replied, shrugging. “I just needed to know more. Peace of mind, and all that.”

Hannah’s smile turned sad, and Gabriel turned away, his own expression souring. Pity still left him feeling deeply uncomfortable, even after he almost drowned in it back at the bunker. He felt how Sam’s eyes had always followed him, caught every flinch and nervous twitch.

Sam who possibly, actually, cared for him.

Gabriel wasn’t quite sure how to describe the toiling feeling deep inside his chest - it was as though he was homesick, but for a person. Sam, with his gentle touches, his soft voice and his caring words, had wormed his way into Gabriel’s mind.

“You should rest now,” Hannah said, tapping on his shoulder.

Gabriel blinked out his thoughts, and turned to face Hannah, responding with a dignified “Huh?”

Hannah snorted, and began to gently guide Gabriel back to the cabin. “I said, you should rest now. Tasha wants to talk with you later.”

“Tasha?”

“She’s in charge around here. A gifted witch, she helped save your life.”

Gabriel turned to face Hannah, raising an eyebrow. “Max and Alicia’s mom?”

Hannah nodded and replied, “That’s her, yeah.”

“Huh.”

Hannah bowed her head slightly as she left, closing the door behind, Gabriel now alone in his cabin. He perched on the edge of the bed and untied his dressing gown, fingers tracing lightly over the bandaging on his stomach. Loose as it was, the cord had still felt uncomfortable, pressing on his wound.

Lying back onto his bed, Gabriel tucked his arms behind his head and traced the lines of the ceiling. He wasn’t certain sleep would come any time soon - nor did he look forward to the memories it always heralded - but the archangel had plenty to dwell on for at least a few hours.

* * *

It was evening when Tasha came around.

The sun lay on the horizon, bathing the sky in a warm orange glow. Gabriel was sat on the step outside his cabin, watching the colours morph and fade, when Tasha sat down next to him.

They sat in silence for a few moments, before Gabriel finally spoke up and said, “I’ll always be in awe of the beauty of this world. Dad well and truly knocked it out of the park when he created this planet, and you guys.”

Tasha laughed and hummed in agreement. “It truly is something. There isn’t much of this world left, but I’ve learned to appreciate what remains.”

Gabriel finally turned to face Tasha, taking his first real look at her - she was an elegant woman, her tight curls pulled back from her face in a high ponytail. There was an air of authority about the witch, quiet yet dangerous. Gabriel saw the raw magic that crackled through her veins, bright purple and potent, much like Max.

“Shoot - I know you have a lot of questions.”

“What is this place?”

“You know of the war, yes?” Tasha asked, waiting till Gabriel nodded in response. “Well, in the beginning, humans loathed everything that wasn’t human. Most hunters just saw this as a chance to openly slaughter the supernatural - they didn’t have to hide their hunting anymore, and ordinary humans saw them as heroes.

“So sympathetic humans, mostly witches, and alpha monsters, established these types of supernatural friendly camps.”

“How’d you get this whole interspecies co-operation going?” Gabriel asked, his curiosity taking hold. “Last I heard, vamps and werewolves weren’t very buddy buddy.”

“It wasn’t smooth going at first,” Tasha admitted, her lips twisted in a tight frown. “There was a lot of infighting. It was bloody. But it fast became apparent that the war of Heaven and Hell spared nobody, regardless of species. Angels and demons alike were hungry for blood.”

“An enemy of our enemy is a friend,” Gabriel said, echoing Max’s words from a few days earlier.

“Precisely.”

Gabriel nodded slowly, lips bit together as he mulled it over. “The rebel angels - bit of a risky move, letting them in.”

Tasha huffed in amusement, her smile spreading. “Yeah, and trust me, many people pointed that out. But they were victims as much as we were, having been through the re-education cycle many a time.”

Gabriel winced in sympathy as he thought back to the fresh scarring weaving across Hannah’s true form, telling of Heaven’s cruelty. Castiel bore similar marks from his own defiance against indoctrination.

Thinking of Castiel left a bitter taste in Gabriel’s mouth - he missed his younger brother, and his world. He missed the days when Castiel could hardly fly, his wings fluffy with soft downy feathers, when Michael and Lucifer only half-heartedly bickered, like siblings do.

Gabriel missed it all.

“Gabriel?”

The sound of his name snapped Gabriel from his nostalgic musings. Tasha regarded him with... concern? Curiosity? Gabriel couldn’t pinpoint her expression, and didn’t have the energy to search beyond surface.

“I just- I don’t belong here.”

“You know you’re welcome here, right?”

“I know, I just-” Gabriel paused, pursing his lips as he mulled over the right words. “This isn’t my world. Michael and Lucifer, they’re like two nuclear bombs, and I gotta- I gotta make sure they don’t go off.”

Tasha regarded him for a moment, then sighed. “You need to look after yourself, too.”

Those words triggered something defensive inside Gabriel; he felt a mask slipping over his face before he even fully processed. “That’s all well and good, doc, but the end is nigh. Might heed your advice when Doomsday is Dooms-done.”

They both heard the bite behind each word - Gabriel winced internally, and Tasha recoiled, stunned.

Words had always been Gabriel’s talent, his control over their power was absolute, shaping them into scathing, pointed arrows, or smoothing them into mellow, soft embraces. Having his voice stolen had shattered Gabriel’s confidence in his gift, left his command shaky. Now, words were carved too sharp, hurled like unintended projectiles, wounding far deeper than he’d ever intended.

“Sorry,” Gabriel mumbled, hands grasped tightly around each other. “I’m not, uh, not great, and, yeah.”

It was awkward and clunky and nothing like the silken eloquence his silvertongue was famed for, but Tasha nodded. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes anymore, a nervous reluctance tugging the corners down.

Gabriel understood.

He was an archangel, and he’d just exposed his cruel streak to someone who’d offered nothing but kindness and safety. Weakened, sure, but Gabriel would bet he was still the most dangerous monster Tasha had ever encountered, capable of major destruction even now. The quakes that shuddered throughout the camp every time he woke screaming from a bad nightmare were testament enough to that.

“I need to get back. I don’t know how, but I need to,” Gabriel said, leaning back against the door frame, letting his gaze roam upwards. The sun was long gone now, the sky decorated with innumerable pinpricks of light. He wondered briefly if the Gabriel over here had helped shape the same constellations he had.

“How did you get here?”

Gabriel huffed in frustrated amusement. “Pretty complicated spell. The ingredients are too rare - it’d take too long to find them, and too risky too. Michael probably has them all under lock and key.”

Tasha hummed, hand clasped together in front of her chin as she looked ahead, deep in thought. She was clearly mulling something over, so Gabriel waited and watched, unblinking.

“I might have an idea,” she finally said, her voice cautious and low.

“Go on?”

“I know of a girl, in a camp about a day’s walk away,” Tasha said slowly, gauging Gabriel’s reaction. So far, he was mostly neutral, but she caught the dulled glimmer of curiosity and hope in his eyes. “She’s a dreamwalker, and a very gifted one too. Blossomed under the guidance of an older dreamwalker over the past few years.”

“How soon can we go?”

“Not we,” Tasha replied quickly, “I have to stay here and keep this place in order.” Gabriel simply nodded, not all that surprised. “Tomorrow, I’ll organise a party to go with you. The day after, once all supplies are in order, you’ll head out.”

“The day after. Cool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyyyyy i finally updated (don't worry, the sabriel starts properly soon, just slowly building up). also, check out that bumped up chapter count! since i sat down and properly planned this all out the other day
> 
> as always, comments and kudos absolutely make my day, and motivate me to write faster too!
> 
> thank you for reading <3


	4. Chapter 4

“Focus on me, okay? We’re almost done, you’re doing great.”

Gabriel clenched his jaw as Alicia’s fingers fluttered about the bandaging on his neck. At the tug of medical tape being pulled off, Gabriel drew a sharp breath, mentally counting the seconds. A constant stream of gentle reaffirmations from Alicia was all that kept him grounded in reality, kept him from slipping back in memories of rough fingers prodding and stealing and squeezing.

“All done!” Alicia said, and Gabriel let out a sigh of relief. She lifted a mirror and held it up for Gabriel to see.

He looked... different. A layer of stubble covered his cheeks and chin - simple vessel maintenance had slipped from his mind, and something as basic as keeping himself clean shaven would’ve been a gross expenditure of his grace any way. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, it was just... different.

Gabriel himself looked well-rested. Gone were the bags under his eyes that had lingered for the past eight years. Mandatory bed rest had done him a world of good, and his mind had begun to associate the camp with safety, letting him get more than two hours undisturbed sleep a night.

Then Gabriel lifted his chin, and saw the reason Alicia was holding up a mirror.

“We tried our best, but- Well, you’re an archangel, and we’re only humans.”

“It’s okay,” Gabriel said, his voice low. Trembling fingers touched the edge of the scar, traced along the unmarred skin on either side. It was still a vibrant pink, not yet worn down by time, a disturbing reminder of just how low he’d been brought.

Gabriel dropped his hand, head ducked down self-consciously. Alicia put the mirror down on the side table, smiling sadly.

“We all have scars here, Gabriel. They tell the tales of what we’ve survived.”

Gabriel nodded, lips pressed tight together - he didn’t trust his voice to not betray him, to not hitch and expose his true feelings. Fingertips traced across the bandages wrapped around his abdomen, searching for the end. Alicia got the hint and brushed his hands away with her own, quickly unravelling the white material.

“This is healing well too,” Alicia hummed, as she cleaned the newly exposed area with an antibacterial wipe. Gabriel glanced down, and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Left behind where Michael had drove the blade into his stomach was a tangled knot of scar tissue, twisted in a star burst shape, vibrant against his pale skin.

A constant reminder of his own weakness, painted bright on the blank canvas of his body for all to see.

“Gabriel.”

Alicia was looking at him with an understanding, a small sad smile playing on her lips. “They’re not a sign of weakness,” she said, watching him closely for any reaction. Gabriel kept his expression guarded. “Both of these should’ve killed you, but you’re still here. They’re not a sign of weakness, they’re a sign of strength.”

“You won’t find a single scar on Michael, or Lucifer, or Raphael.”

“They haven’t been through what you’ve been through.”

Gabriel couldn’t argue that. Logically, he knew that it wasn’t something to be ashamed of, that he should be grateful to simply be alive. His entire life, though, had been measuring his own worth in comparison to others, and Gabriel knew he could never live up to his older brothers.

Michael, Raphael, and even Lucifer were everything Father had intended; they were absolute, they were beasts of immeasurable power, striking fear into the heart of any who looked upon them. They were terrifying and calculating and utterly divine, and Gabriel... Gabriel was not.

Gabriel was the runt of the holy litter. Whilst his brothers led entire afterlife realms with ease, Gabriel drank and fucked and doled out his judgement on immoral humans. Too holy to ever truly fit in with the pagans, yet not quite divine enough to stand alongside his brothers.

“Gabriel,” Alicia called, and Gabriel snapped out of his self-loathing spiral. “Listen to me - you are good, and you are brave. You’ve already sacrificed yourself once to save everyone, and the main reason you want to get back to your world is to stop Michael and Lucifer. That doesn’t sound like a selfish person, or a failure, to me.”

He simply nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheeks. Alicia took the hint, and didn’t press further.

* * *

Tasha had stayed true to her word - two days after they spoke, as the sun rose on the colour drained world, a small party gathered in the centre of the camp. Max and Hannah were there, and Gabriel felt some of his anxiety settle at knowing familiar faces would accompany him.

Alicia had hugged Gabriel tight, careful to wrap her arms about his shoulders. “Stay safe,” she’d murmured, as Gabriel returned the embrace and melted into the kindness. “Don’t want my hard work to go to waste.”

Gabriel snorted as he pulled away. “Do you trust me?” he asked. Alicia didn’t hesitate before nodding. “This might feel a little... strange.”

Given more time, Gabriel would’ve chose a more personal and practical teaching method, but they were on a tight schedule. He lifted his hands, placing his palms gently on Alicia’s temples. To an observer, it would have looked like an intimate moment, and it was, but in a different way to what many would assume.

Memories of how Raphael worked with mind and soul, manipulating and shaping them to ease the strain of conditions like PTSD and depression, trickled from Gabriel to Alicia. It felt like a useful skill, in a world constantly ravaged by war. If showing the Healer’s methods to someone could help make life a little easier for even a few people, it was worth it.

Alicia drew a sharp breath as Gabriel’s hands fell down, his head tilting as he watched her reaction. It took a few moments for her to ground herself, blinking up with wide eyes. “Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet, yet filled with awe.

Gabriel shook his head and smiled. “No,” he said, “thank you. For everything.”

Introductions to the rest of the travelling party were orchestrated swiftly by Tasha: Meghan was human, yet an exceptional navigator, and was to lead the group; Eli was a young vampire, and a rare day walker; Tamiel and Ishim were both renegades angels, still in possession of their grace.

Ishim was a young seraph, who Gabriel did not recognise, though his grace was soothing and undamaged. Tamiel was a Grigori, evident from the elegant angel sword in his right hand, trueform scarred beyond recognition - the name, Gabriel remembered, but the being was no longer the sibling he knew.

Ishim bowed, and Tamiel ducked his head; Gabriel shuffled nervously under the attention.

The realisation struck Gabriel, as he looked around at the small group gathered, that they saw him as their salvation. This travelling party was predominantly fighters to get him safely to the camp. He was their hope, their shining beacon in this dark world, their last stand against Michael.

Gabriel felt sick.

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve the care they’d given him, or the reverence they watched him with now. He was damaged beyond belief, a false martyr once more. He couldn’t even save himself, how could he possibly save anybody else?

Above all else though, Gabriel knew he had to at least try.

These people had offered him a safe haven, even after finding out what he was. They were the reason he was still alive, up and healing as quickly as he was. Michael had ruined their world, he had slaughtered so many, indiscriminate of species, and yet he’d failed in breaking their spirit.

In the face of cruelty, these people had become stronger, and kinder, and more determined.

Though the sick feeling that twisted his stomach in knots never left, Gabriel managed to push it down. He focused on Tasha’s people, on the Bunker inhabitants, on his own crumbling home and endangered family.

Gabriel knew he couldn’t run this time.

“Right,” he said, clapping his hands, forcing a faux cheery tone. “We ready to get this show on the road?”

Gabriel’s animated demeanour fell flat, and his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Nobody said anything.

* * *

They walked for hours over uneven terrain, only stopping briefly for Meghan to check her compass and map.

Gabriel had asked, early on, why they didn’t simply fly, to which Max pointed out that such a large group would be suspicious, and almost certainly noticed by celestial forces.

Hannah flanked Gabriel the whole way, her blade never leaving her white knuckle grip. Max walked towards the front of the group; he seemed relaxed and somewhat detached, but Gabriel knew he was anything but. Sparks crackled underneath his skin, magic concentrated and pulsing in his hands.

This was a dangerous, ruthless world; a slip in concentration could easily be fatal.

Ishim was anxious around Gabriel, clearly an angel who believed strongly in the celestial hierarchy. He kept his gaze averted at all times, and only spoke when spoken to. Tamiel’s despondence was far easier to deal with, his own quiet stemming from a lack of interest in anything that wasn’t stopping Michael.

Eli spent most of his time apart from the group, going ahead to scout out potential danger and sporadically rejoining to feed back on where to be careful. The vampire was silent in his movements, a perfect predator, and it was only due to Gabriel feeling his presence that he knew Eli was close by.

One time, Eli came back, blood staining his lips, tacky and barely dry on his chin. He reassured them that any danger had been swiftly dealt with, and left again.

And so, Gabriel pushed on, despite his aching muscles and growing exhaustion. They were making this trek because of him, risking their lives for him; he couldn’t be the thing that slowed them down.

He took a greedy gulp from his water bottle, hoping the cool liquid would stir some last reserves of energy into action, but Gabriel still felt sluggish and drained.

As they went on, and his discomfort shifted into actual pain, Gabriel simply gritted his jaw and continued in silence. The past years had taught him well in how cope with, and conceal, his pain. Where once, Gabriel would’ve disguised his suffering with sharp wit and ridiculous tales, he now bit his tongue out of fear of being more of a burden.

“Gabriel?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Just peachy.”

Hannah’s raised eyebrow told him she didn’t believe him. Max and Meghan noticed them, and turned; Ishim and Tamiel had been trailing just behind, and drew to a steady halt.

“Everything okay?” Max asked, glancing between Hannah and Gabriel.

“I’m all good, honest. Dealt with way worse than a stroll through the woods,” Gabriel replied, though his attention was focused on Hannah.

Meghan caught Hannah’s eye and gave a short, sharp nod once Gabriel looked away. “I was hoping we could stop soon anyway? I need to rest, and it’s getting too dark to see the map.”

Gabriel almost sagged in relief. There was something suspicious about the way she spoke, something that seemed a little forced and too convenient, but he was just thankful to have the chance to take a break, and even more grateful he didn’t have to expose his own weakness to get it.

The trees around them provided a good coverage, both from potential weather and from anything that might be prowling around at night. They walked a little further, into a denser part of the woods, as the light levels began to fall rapidly, and settled against three thick trunks.

It wouldn’t be a comfortable rest, but it was better than none. Logically, Gabriel knew he should stay awake and alert, that sleep just meant he was vulnerable once more, but his eyes closed of their own accord, his aching limbs slipped into the numbness of sleep.

Hannah watched over Gabriel as he slept, in the same way Tamiel and Ishim stood guard over Max, Meghan and Eli. She was by his side the moment peaceful rest turned into something distressed and fitful; she was there to soothe him as he jolted awake, her grace pressed against his in reassurance.

Side by side, they sat silently and watched as the night sky faded away, soft beams of light filtering through the thick tree canopy.

It had been a long time since Gabriel had just sat and watched the world pass by, soaking in the beauty of it, and even on the ravaged planet, he was in awe of his Father’s creation.

Hannah had let her head fall back against the trunk, a small smile on her lips as a light breeze ruffled through her spread wings. In that moment, Gabriel just saw his little sister, back in her youth in the days long gone, constantly basking in the beauty of Heaven and creation.

Sensing everyone would begin to wake soon, Gabriel put himself to work, rifling through the backpack for food supplies. Since only four members of the party needed to eat, one of whom didn’t have a standard diet anyway, they hadn’t brought much out.

Gabriel laid out the packets of dried meat and bags of berries on a stump, and lined the water bottles up beside them. The blood bag felt cold in his hands, bright red against his pale skin, and for a moment he was back there, clutching desperately at his abdomen, liquid streaming out between his fingers.

With a shudder, he quickly dropped the blood bag on the stump, and took a moment to ground himself, counting the seconds as he inhaled and exhaled.

Satisfied with his current level of clarity, Gabriel crouched down and took his portion. It wasn’t long till the others joined, Meghan with bed hair and tired eyes first, then Eli, his fangs piercing through the bag with ease, and finally Max, looking well rested.

* * *

When they finally arrived at the camp, just past noon, an armed escort greeted them at the border. Five women and seven men, each holding an assault rifle, raised them to aim at the party.

“Which one is the archangel?” one of the men called out. Gabriel drew a sharp breath and tentatively stepped forward, stopping when he yelled, “Don’t move any further!”

The woman stood beside him lowered her gun, and with her free hand pulled out a pair of Enochian cuffs. Gabriel tensed. “One of you put these on him.”

Max stepped forward, just ahead of Gabriel, and lifted his hands in a show of peace. “Is that really necessary?” Max responded, his tone challenging. Though he didn’t know much of Gabriel’s history, he knew enough to realise cuffs weren’t the best idea. “He’s been with our camp over a week. He’s not dangerous.”

“Cuffs, or you don’t come in.”

Gabriel hated it, hated the way those two metal rings made his stomach churn, but he understood. To them, he was a monster, a ticking time bomb of malice that could explode at any time. All they had to go by was Michael, who hadn’t set the best example.

Max made to argue again, but Gabriel spoke first. “Just put them on,” he sighed, defeated. He’d just have to hold it together for long enough to prove he meant no harm. Easier said than done. Max relented, though he didn’t look pleased about it, and snatched the cuffs off the guard.

“I’m sorry,” Max said, and Gabriel simply nodded. He forced himself to relax as Max guided his arms back, clamping the cold metal about his wrists, but he couldn’t suppress the shudder as his slowly regenerating grace was locked away beyond his reach.

Ishim moved forward, blade raised and wings flared, daring the guards to make one wrong move. His face was contorted in a picture of righteous fury; the concept of treating an archangel with such disrespect was incomprehensible to him. Tamiel stood beside him, angel sword held up in a defensive position, though his expression was unreadable.

Hannah and Max pressed tight against either side of Gabriel, each with an arm looped through his to offer support and stability. Meghan and Eli stood close by them - Eli snarled, fangs bared, a clear warning, whilst Meghan wielded a gun with steady hands.

Two of the armed escort made to move forward, lowering their weapons. “Hey! No,” Max yelled, pausing as they stilled. “You all keep your distance, and lead the way.”

It was then that Gabriel understood Max’s role in the party; Max was the diplomat, the son of a camp matriarch. Despite his usual laid back approach to life, he was respected, and nobody would dare cross him.

Inter-camp politics were at play here. The guards were reluctant to maintain a distance, unable to keep a close eye on each party member, but knew the risk of ruining the relationship with Tasha’s camp was too high.

Eventually, the apparent leader said, “Fine, just keep him under control.”

Max bit his tongue, but Gabriel could feel how pissed off the young witch was. The leader gestured for them to follow; it was an entirely uphill trek, stretched from five minutes to fifteen as Hannah insisted on slowing the pace so Gabriel didn’t stumble.

Gabriel had to focus on his breathing for most of the trek, desperately trying to keep himself from tripping over the edge and into a panic.

When they entered the camp, the structures almost perfect echoes of those in Tasha’s camp, a flurry of humans and supernatural beings rushing, Gabriel dropped his chin. He felt vulnerable, in the middle of this bustling mini society, completely unable to defend himself.

“Welcome,” a deep voice called out. Gabriel looked up at the source - an older man, bald and heavy built and tall, wearing a khaki t-shirt, dark brown cargo pants and a camo jacket. There was something familiar about him, something that felt like deja vu, but Gabriel couldn’t place him.

Max stormed forward, more animated and emotional than Gabriel had ever seen him in his short stay. Max stopped right in front of the older man, squared up and ready to start a fight.

“What the hell, Samuel?!”

“What’s your problem?”

“You’re treating our guest like a fucking prisoner.”

“He’s an archangel, Max.”

“He’s. Our. Guest.”

“Just because your mother trusts too easily, doesn’t mean I’ll make the same mistake.”

“Don’t expect mine or my mum’s help with warding your camp in the future.”

The older man - Samuel, apparently - narrowed his eyes and raised his chin at that, jaw clenched tight shut. Gabriel got the impression that this was a man who loathed being undermined, who was steadfast in his decisions even after realising they were wrong.

Samuel gestured at the leader of the armed escort and ushered him over. He passed the keys to Max, who gave a sarcastic smile in response.

Without a second thought, Max rushed back over and unlocked the Enochian cuffs, kicking them away as they fell to the floor. Gabriel brought his hands forward, massaging his wrists, reminding himself that he was free as safe now.

Samuel eyed Gabriel with distaste, an unspoken threat hanging in the air between them. Though Gabriel could easily take on Samuel, even at his depleted grace levels, the way the older man stared down with disgust and loathing made Gabriel want to shrink down and hide away.

It took all he had to stand his ground and stare back, refusing to show any weakness in front of this man.

“Kaia will be over soon,” Samuel eventually said, his voice gruff. “It’s her choice if she helps you. If she says no, I want you all gone immediately.”

Gabriel was glad to see the back of Samuel, relieved as he turned and left.

It wasn’t long after that a young teenage girl, hidden in her oversized blue hoodie, began to approach them. Her hands were tucked into the sleeves, and beneath her hood, unruly strands of curly black hair slipped out. The hoodie seemed less like an item of clothing, and more like a protective shield.

“Kaia?” Max asked, and she looked up, cautious and uncertain. “My name is Max. We just want your help.”

She glanced between them anxiously. “Which one of you is the...?” she trailed off, but the question was obvious. Gabriel stepped forward slowly, held his hands out for her to see.

“That’d be me. Gabriel. Nice to meet you.”

Kaia drew a deep breath, eyes scanning over him as she mentally assessed him, half tempted to run. With those very hands he held out now, he’d probably shaped stars at the start of time; Kaia knew running wouldn’t save her, if he truly wanted her dead.

“Why do you need me?” she asked, relieved her voice didn’t tremor.

“You can see other worlds, right?” Gabriel paused as Kaia nodded, hands gripped together and twisting in the sleeves. “I’m from another world, and I’m stuck here. Michael is in my world, and he’s going to do the same as what he did here.”

Kaia barely hid her surprise at Gabriel’s words; rumours had been floating around camp that Michael was no longer here, but to hear that rumour confirmed was something entirely different. “You need me to help you home,” she said, a little more confident.

“I need to get back over there. To stop Michael, and to help my family and friends.”

“You really think you could stop Michael?”

“I’ll give it my best shot, kid.”

Kaia still looked nervous, but there was something more there now. Resilience. Hope. Gabriel wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to comprehend how, in the face of all odds, humans could still stand and fight, but he admired it.

“Then I’ll do it,” Kaia said, nodding.

Those four short words changed the atmosphere entirely, lighting a spark of hope in hardened hearts. Gabriel smiled gratefully at her; Kaia gave an anxious half-grin back.

“Come with me, I know somewhere quiet,” Kaia said, barely giving Gabriel a chance to respond before she began to move. Hannah followed close behind, after telling Max she’d let him know of any problems.

Kaia guided them round twists and down trodden out paths, to a somewhat dilapidated looking shelter. “No-one uses this anymore,” she said as she opened the door. “I use it sometimes, when I need to get away from all the noise.”

Inside was mostly bare - a single chair and table sat in the middle, and the few cupboards that littered the walls had doors which hung loosely on their hinges.

Kaia perched on the chair, hands bunched in her lap. “How does this work?”

“You need to see, how you normally see these other worlds. I’ll funnel my grace through you, it’ll work like a couple of energy drinks, boosting you up,” Gabriel said, leaning back against the wall. “It’s not like possession. You can take control at any time, I’ll just be guiding you.”

"What happens? When you find your world?"

"I'll make a tear, so I can cross over. After 24 hours, the rift will vanish, nothing permanent."

Kaia pushed herself off the table, clearly antsy with nerves. She paced a little, then looked back up at Gabriel. “Do you want to just do it now? Get it over with? I’m sure you want to get home.”

Gabriel blinked, wide eyed, glancing over at Hannah in surprise, who just shrugged. “Uh, sure,” he said, shrugging the bulky jacket off to the floor. “Wasn’t expecting you to green light so fast.”

“No point wasting time,” Kaia replied, matter-of-factly. She sat back down, this time on the chair, and pulled her hood down. Gabriel moved to stand behind her, palms pressing lightly against her temples.

“If you need to stop at any point, just tell me.”

Kaia nodded, inhaling deep as she closed her eyes, and felt her third eye open to multiverse. There was something unnerving about someone else taking the reigns, guiding her line of vision and choosing her direction.

Gabriel felt her growing anxiety and soothed the worry that toiled through her soul with a gentle touch of his grace, smoothing the aggressive waves throughout her soul into soft ripples.

With Kaia calmed, it was far easier to establish that connection and guide her sight. The first few worlds were wrong, coloured with varying hues. It was tiring, diving from one universe to the next, unaware of how many more stood between him and his universe.

A world where humans never existed, hyper-saturated and filled with animals Gabriel could hardly comprehend, came into view. The way they moved as packs, how they interacted with each other, there was clearly some kind of societal structure established. Gabriel was intrigued, but he couldn’t waste time, satisfying his own curiosity.

A few more came and went, some desolate and lifeless, victims of a long gone apocalypse, some were hopeful and bright, full of brilliance and wonder, but none were his.

Gabriel clenched his jaw and pushed further through the windows, desperation beginning to seize control. One window in particular, still a little way ahead, called to him. It tugged on his very being, begged him to come closer, and Gabriel couldn’t resist its pull.

_It took a few moments for the view to come into focus, blurred and crackling with static. As it settled, and the distortion gave way to a bustling city, vibrant and alive, Gabriel knew._

_This was his world._

_He wasn’t too late._

_Moving down, till his view was that of another pedestrian, Gabriel saw the naivety of his humanity. This world was filled with colour and life, packed full with the beauty of creation. Michael and Lucifer hadn’t tainted this world; it wasn’t a wasteland yet._

_Heaven was... not fairing quite as well._

_The edges of the holy kingdom were crumbling away, cracks snaking across multiple dimensions._

_The few remaining angels gathered in the heart of Heaven, gave all they could give, but it was hopeless. They knew it was hopeless. The days of the everlasting kingdom were numbered._

Gabriel tried to focus on something, latch on tight to somewhere memorable, but each time he tried to grip, it slipped through his fingers like air. He clawed more desperately now, tried to grasp at the Pyramids, at Stonehenge, at anything, but it was-

It was too much.

Gabriel stumbled back with a jolt, barely regaining his footing in time; Kaia doubled over, a soft whine leaving her lips as she massaged her temples.

It was with a feeling of empty hopelessness that Gabriel realised he wasn’t strong enough. He was trapped here till his grace rebuilt, and maybe even then, it might still not be enough.

He wasn’t enough.

Gabriel felt himself hit the wall, and crumple down to the floor, curled in on himself.

He didn’t care.

He didn’t care anymore, that these people were seeing how weak he truly was, beneath the quick wit and the false bravado.

Gabriel wasn’t enough to open the rift. He’d never be able to see his friends again, to save his family and home from extinction. Gabriel was the useless archangel, the divine disappointment once again.

Michael wouldn’t have needed the help of humans to stay alive. Lucifer wouldn’t have been too weak to open a rift. Raphael wouldn’t sink so low as to show their weakness in front of humans he didn’t know.

“Gabriel?”

He opened his eyes to Hannah crouched in front of him, Kaia next to her, both looking concerned.

“Gabriel, what happened?” she asked, tilting her head.

“The rift- I’m not strong enough. I’m not enough, to do it. To open a rift.”

Kaia frowned, and said, “But we found your world. I saw it, I felt your reaction.”

“Not enough grace. I’m too weak to get back.”

Gabriel shook his head and dropped his gaze down, arms wrapped tight around his knees. He didn’t react as Hannah stood and pulled Kaia to the side. He didn’t listen as Hannah whispered something to Kaia, the younger girl hesitating then nodding. He didn’t care as Hannah rushed out of the room, a sense of urgency about every step.

Kaia sat down, and made to talk to Gabriel a few times, but she could never figure out quite what to say. Her childhood had been filled with stories of merciless archangels, emotionless and brutal as they tore through towns with ease.

Gabriel was clearly none of that.

Nothing really felt appropriate here - how could you comfort someone who might never see their friends, or their family, or their home again? Trapped in an alternate reality, where everyone loathed you?

Words weren’t appropriate here, and Kaia was relieved when Hannah burst back into the room, followed by several others she recognised from around camp.

Hannah dropped down by Gabriel’s side, tugging excitedly at his arm. “Come on!” she exclaimed, beaming, “I’ve fixed it! You can do it now.”

Gabriel looked up, his expression a blend of bitter despondence and resignation. There was no hope there, or belief.

“They’ve all agreed to help,” Hannah continued, gesturing back at the assortment of being crowding the room. “They all want Michael dead, they’ve agreed to help you.”

Gabriel glanced across them, recognising Ishim and Tamiel amongst the faces. There were a few more angels, though Gabriel didn’t linger on their grace long enough to place them, a couple of witches, including Max, and a pagan god, all staring down at him. “What do you mean?”

“Your grace isn’t enough, right?” Hannah asked, barely waiting for Gabriel to respond with a nod. “They’re going to lend their power. All that grace and energy, that has to be enough to open the rip, right?”

A spark of hope ignited itself once more, nestled deep in Gabriel’s chest; he hardly dared acknowledge it, but even thinking logically, it was possible this could actually work. “You’re all willing?” he asked, tone lightening along with his mood. They all nodded, most of them looking eager and hopeful.

Hannah looped her arm around Gabriel’s, and helped him stand up. It was completely unnecessary, but he appreciated the supportive gesture.

“Kaia?”

The teenager smiled at him, genuine and warm, and nodded. “I’m ready to try again, if you are.”

“Maybe the sequel will be better, for once,” Gabriel half-joked, mostly to himself. As Kaia sat back down, they reassumed their previous position, trying to ignore the crowd gathered around them.

With hands pressed either side of Kaia’s head, Gabriel readied himself once more. He knew the telltale call of his universe now, he could hone in on it far quicker than before.

Hands began to layer on him, witches and angels and a pagan god called Bochica. Gabriel’s skin crawled at the sensation of so many beings touching him, but his aversion to physical contact was far outweighed by his desperation to get back home.

“Ready?” he asked, mostly directed at Kaia.

“Ready,” she replied, nodding. Kaia closed her eyes, and let her third eye flutter open once more. Gabriel channelled himself through her, saw what she saw, and focused. His world called to him this time, pleading and sorrowful. Within moments, Gabriel found himself inside the Bunker.

“I’m in,” Gabriel said, and the dam walls came down.

Power flowed into him from all around, divine grace and earthen magic and pagan energy, twisting around his own grace. It was overwhelming, and if it wasn’t for all the hands holding him up, Gabriel would’ve fell to the floor right there and then, consumed by the sheer amount of power.

Gabriel took a few seconds to regather himself and shape the foreign tendrils of energy into something usable. Twined with his own grace and sharpened into something able to cut through the fabric of reality, Gabriel knew it would work this time.

The Bunker came into view again, the empty library seeming like the perfect crossing point. Gabriel guided the power carefully, allowing it to flow through his body like a conduit, slicing through the walls between worlds with ease. Lining up the fabric of realities was easier said than done, but Gabriel had more than a lifetime of experience when it came to playing with the fundamentals of creation.

Gabriel stumbled back as he snapped out of Kaia’s mind; this time, countless hands caught him, kept him upright.

Just beyond them, ahead of where Kaia sat, the tear rippled, golden and bright. It was only small, but it was expanding, stretching across the barrier between worlds.

A stunned silence fell over the group as the rip through reality grew, distorting the air around it. It tore and sparked, pulsing as it settled into a stable rift between worlds, towering above them.

Gabriel stepped towards it, a hand tentatively outstretched. The way it pulsed, the air around the tear rippling, was captivating. Against all odds, here stood a doorway back to his world. Home and family and friends were just a few steps away.

“Gabriel,” Kaia said, shattering his trance-like fascination with the tear. “Good luck. I hope you can do it.”

Hannah rushed forward, arms wrapping tight about his shoulders. “Please stay safe, brother,” she said, her voice muffled as she pressed into the crook of his neck. Gabriel drew a sharp breath and hugged her back, clutching tight at the little sister he knew he couldn’t have.

“Maybe we’ll see each other again sometime,” Max said, and both of them smirked at the absurdity of it, as though reality hopping was as simple as catching a bus.

Gabriel nodded and smiled, jaw clenched as he tried to swallow down his overwhelming emotions. “Thank you. Thank you all,” Gabriel said, knowing if he tried to speak more, his voice would crack and betray him.

With goodbyes said and gratitude expressed, Gabriel felt his resolve grow and turned back to the rift. The weight of responsibility already sat on his shoulders, his debt to so many waiting to be paid off. It was terrifying, knowing what he’d promised and how much he owed, but Gabriel had made a vow, and he had no intentions of going back on it.

No more running.

Gabriel stepped through, vanishing in a flash of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry about how long this took. major case of writer's block, paired with it being the longest chapter so far didn't add up well. can confirm the next chapter won't take as long though, given that it's characters i actually know how to write!!
> 
> any comments and thoughts would be massively appreciated, thank you for reading


	5. Chapter 5

Sam woke to sirens blaring and red lights flashing.

His stomach dropped.

What if Michael had come for them? Decided they were too much of a spanner in his plans? Sam’s fingers curled tight around the grip of his handgun, despite knowing that anything dangerous enough to set off the alarms would simply laugh at being shot.

Sam glanced up and down the hallway before stepping out, back close to the wall with his gun raised high. He clicked the safety off with his thumb as he silently moved down.

The sigils on the wall pulsed bright blue; Sam noticed that some of the newer ones, painted as a last effort defence against Michael, flickered haphazardly. A tendril of fear curled around his heart and clenched vice tight.

Michael was here.

Sam pushed forward, despite every instinct screaming at him to run. If he could get to Michael first, he could distract, and maybe Castiel and Jack would have enough time to escape. They could keep fighting back, and they could save Dean.

One foot in front of the other, moving with stealth that came from years of practise and indoctrination, Sam moved down the corridor. He could hear something, a soft thrumming distorted by the blaring sirens, that held a familiarity he couldn’t place.

Though still barely there, the thrumming grew more distinct as Sam rounded the end of the corridor, towards the entrance of the library. He knew with complete certainty that he’d heard that sound before, but where continued to elude him.

Regardless, he had to keep moving. He didn’t have time for sifting through memories. Sam had to find Michael before Michael found Castiel and Jack; he had to give them a chance to escape.

Yet as Sam moved through the entrance to the library, the tendrils of fear crushing every organ fell slack. This wasn’t possible.

At the back of the library, a familiar rift pulsed, its golden glow overpowering the red flashing lights. Sam, however, was focused on the person stood just in front.

It was a face so very familiar, and yet so different. Even more worn down and subdued, if that was possible, with a layer of stubble across their jawline, and a tight grimace twisting their lips.

Sam shook his head, gun half up as he stared in disbelief.

He was hallucinating, or dreaming. This couldn’t be real.

Gabriel was dead.

“You guys really bumped up the security here, huh?”

Sam just continued to stare as the thing wearing Gabriel’s face smirked tiredly at him. He knew he was gaping, but Sam didn’t know how else to react.

“Who are you?” he managed eventually, though it was said with far less conviction than intended.

Fake Gabriel’s forced grin fell. “It’s me, Sam. I know I’ve got this now,” he gestured as the stubble on his cheeks, “but it’s still just me underneath.”

Sam shook his head, lips bit tight together as he raised the gun again. “No,” Sam replied, firmer this time. “Gabriel died. I saw him die. I don’t know who you are, or what you’re playing at here, but you’re not him.”

Gabriel took a step forward.

Sam’s finger pressed slightly on the trigger as he yelled, “Don’t move! Don’t you dare move!”

Gabriel stumbled back, hands raised, head ducked, trying desperately to keep his surging panic under control. Follow all orders, it’ll hurt less later. Don’t give him a reason to punish.

“Sam!”

“Cas, get out of here! Get Jack out!”

“Sam,” the voice was closer now, but Gabriel didn’t dare look up. “Sam, put the gun down. I can handle this.”

“What are you do-”

“Please,” Castiel interrupted, firmer this time. “Let me handle this, Sam.”

Two shiny black shoes stepped into Gabriel’s line of sight, just far enough away that he didn’t feel crowded.

“Gabriel?” Castiel said, his voice gentle. “Can you look at me?”

Gabriel obeyed. He had to obey. He lifted his head slowly, hands still raised either side, shoulders curled in, till he was looking up at Castiel.

“Good, that’s good,” Castiel continued, nodding reassuringly. “Gabriel, you’re safe here. You can relax, no-one will hurt you.”

Gabriel’s eyes flickered from Castiel’s face to just past his shoulder, at Sam. Sam was watching him carefully - maybe hopefully - and his gun was down.

“Cas?”

Castiel almost smiled at the show of clarity. Gabriel still had a vaguely distant look in his eyes, but one foot was back in reality now. “It’s me, brother. You’re safe here Gabriel.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Gabriel was still uncertain, slowly lowering his hands in case this safety was torn from under his feet. A voice in the back of his mind told him to stay on edge, to be ready to run or plead or hide, but Castiel’s presence was stronger.

Castiel pushed forward, reaching out with his grace till it brushed over the surface of Gabriel’s own tumultuous, torn core. Gabriel’s lips parted in surprise at the touch, but his grace reacted instinctually, relishing the warmth and familiarity of his younger brother. That Gabriel’s grace didn’t dwarf his own concerned Castiel, but now was not a time for questions - that could come once Gabriel was settled and rested.

“I’m glad you survived,” Castiel said, genuine affection rolling off every word. Gabriel replied, “Me too,” his eyes alight and alert once more.

“Uncle Gabe!” was all the warning Gabriel got before a speeding mass of nephilim crashed into him, arms wrapping tight around his chest. He stiffened at first, heard the sharp breaths drawn by Sam and Castiel, but the warmth of Jack’s soul kept him grounded.

“Hey, kid,” Gabriel said fondly, one arm curling protectively about his nephew’s shoulders. “Didn’t think you knew me enough to miss me.”

Jack looked affronted as he drew back. “Of course I missed you. You’re my family.”

Gabriel couldn’t help as his lips twitched into a smile, that short sentence hitting harder than he’d ever admit. It’d been a long time since anyone had called him family. It had been just as long since anyone had ever cared.

“I’m happy you’re alive,” Jack said, his eyes bright as he beamed at Gabriel. Gabriel bit his lips together, unable to respond out of fear his voice would betray him and crack. Instead, he ruffled Jack’s hair affectionately, earning him a half-hearted huff in protest.

Sam watched the interaction, surprised at just how much Gabriel softened around his nephew. The world had taught him that he needed thick skin, that he needed to build his walls high to keep himself safe, yet Jack’s mere presence brought all that tumbling down.

Castiel felt a rush of warmth at the sight of his son and his brother so happy together. He felt joy for himself, now a member of a growing family instead of lonely and hopeless; he felt joy for Jack, who now had a tether to his heritage, someone who could guide him when Castiel couldn’t; he felt joy for Gabriel, who’d spent so long self-isolating out of fear, now a part of their group.

“I hate to break this moment up, but... Well, you died. I saw you die, Gabe.”

“And like Jesus, I rise again,” Gabriel quipped back, deflecting from the serious topic.

“How? You- I saw you die.”

“A Christmas miracle?”

“Brother, Christmas is many months away.”

“Fine. Michael,” Gabriel replied with a forced grin.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel said, frowning.

“Look, I get that you’ve got questions. Hell, I’ve got questions too. But I’ve had a really long day, and a rough few weeks, and I’d love it if one of you could point me at something I could crash on.” Sam, Castiel and Jack watched as Gabriel sagged, what little energy he was using to hold himself up gone. “Doesn’t even have to be a bed.”

“Yeah, sure, we’ve got plenty of spare rooms,” Sam said, placing his gun down on the table, safety on. “Follow me. Cas, could you deal with the whole...” Sam trailed off, gesturing vaguely upwards at the flashing red lights.

“Of course,” Castiel responded, casting a quick glance over at Gabriel before he left.

“Thanks,” Gabriel mumbled, following Sam as he led the way.

* * *

_“Oh, you’re awake. Finally.”_

_Gabriel blinked his eyes open. His stomach dropped at the sight of damp stone walls, stained red with his own blood. He shook his head frantically, tried to yell out, to beg, tearing at stitches he thought he’d been freed from._

_Every cry for help, every desperate plea was reduced to an unintelligible muffled noise, pained and broken._

_“You see,” the familiar southern drawl continued, “I made a new friend recently. Someone with very similar interests. Figured I might introduce you two.”_

_Gabriel shut his eyes, tried to curl in on himself. If he didn’t see him, it wasn’t real, he could escape into his mind._

_A hand curled tight around his jaw, fingerprints bruising his already marred skin. It yanked his chin up, as the other forced one eye open, made him see the very creature that haunted his every moment._

_“You really thought it was that easy, boy?” Asmodeus jibed, leering down at him. “You thought you could escape me? I own you, Gabriel. I got so deep inside that mind of yours, you’ll never escape me.”_

_Gabriel whined, tried to turn his head away; Asmodeus simply laughed. His hands clawed hopelessly at Asmodeus’ wrist, simply amusing the demon more._

_“Anyhow, I’m being awful rude right now. I’ve got someone for you to meet, pet.”_

_A choked sob tore through Gabriel as Michael stepped over the threshold and into the torture room, eyeing him like a predator would wounded prey._

_This couldn’t be happening._

_He was free. He’d survived. This couldn’t be real._

_“Keep him still,” Michael purred, grinning wide and inhuman._

_Gabriel tried to fight, tried to get away, but he was too weak. Asmodeus laughed at his struggles as he wrapped cold fingers vice tight around his wrists, pinning them against the wall above his head. The damp stone surface dug into his skin; Asmodeus just pressed harder._

_Michael’s fingers snaked through his hair in a painfully familiar manner, tugging back against his struggles, exposing bare neck. He lifted his hand, archangel blade snug in his grip, and-_

Gabriel woke in a cold sweat, panting as he struggled out from under tangled sheets. He reached out to the side, grasping wildly till his fingers brushed across the lampshade. After a moment of anxious fumbling, the room flooded with a gentle light, and Gabriel was greeted by the generic dull walls of the bunker.

He felt some of his fear dissipate at the sight of the basic furnishings: an dull brown desk; a chest of draws; a two door wardrobe. Though it wasn’t much, it was enough to distinguish this room from his cell.

A shaking hand traced around his lips, reassuring himself; where once there were soiled stitches, open wounds and crusted blood, now was just smooth skin and stubble, as though nothing had ever happened.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and Gabriel jumped. He hated the way his fingers clawed into the sheets, and the way his back had to press tight against the headboard. He couldn’t bring himself to call out - what if it all was an illusion, to lull him into a false sense of security, just to break him all over again?

“Gabe? Uh, are you okay?”

Logically, Gabriel knew that was Sam, and Sam wouldn’t hurt him. It took all his willpower not to curl up into a ball and hope Sam left him alone.

“Yep. Yeah. Aces.”

“... You don’t sound convinced - can I come in?”

Gabriel sighed; Sam had always been the one to pry with good intentions. He’d always been able to see through Gabriel’s bullshit, when others were either oblivious or uncaring. “Sure.”

Gradually, the door inched open, till it was just wide enough for Sam to slip through. He closed it quietly behind him, then perched on the edge of the bed, giving Gabriel the space he needed.

“You sure you’re okay? I heard noises.”

“Just peachy.”

With a transparent lie, Gabriel answered Sam better than any admission could. Sam gave him that sad smile, the one that said ‘I know you’re not okay’ with far more understanding than would ever be okay.

“I’m sorry about, you know, the gun, and all that...” Sam trailed off, uncertain, waiting for Gabriel’s reaction.

“It’s cool,” Gabriel responded, but it lacked conviction and neither of them were convinced. “I mean, probably should’ve had more of a plan than ‘hop dimensions, tear it up at the welcome back party’.”

Sam huffed in amusement. “Yeah, we’ve kinda been on high alert, with Michael and all.”

“You know he’s here then? And Lucifer too?”

Sam stilled at that. Whilst the memory of Lucifer’s dead body filled him with relief, finally gave him freedom from the persisting fear, Lucifer was Gabriel’s brother. No matter the terms they were on, there was still a time they loved each other, and countless fond memories shared.

“Gabe... Lucifer’s dead.”

Gabriel couldn’t describe the tidal wave of emotion that crashed down on him with those three words.

It wasn’t grief; Gabriel had mourned for his brother the day he succumbed to the Mark of Cain, and every day since. The thing that had died was not the brother he knew, but a twisted, corrupted parody of the Morningstar. If anything, Gabriel was glad the thing that bastardised his brother’s memory was gone.

It wasn’t positive either, though. It was like a nagging emptiness at the very core of him, swallowing up every emotion he could make sense of and leaving him with a dull nothingness.

Part of Gabriel had always foolishly hoped that there was something left of his Lucifer that could be saved. Logically, he knew his brother had died long ago, but Gabriel had indulged in human emotions from a young age, and that hope had gripped him tight.

“How?”

“Dean, uh- He said made a deal, and said yes. To Michael. To save me and Jack, from Lucifer. It was close, but they won.”

Anxiety gripped Gabriel tight as he realised he hadn’t seen Dean once since crossing over. “Sam,” Gabriel said, already dreading the answer, “where’s Dean?”

“... Michael went back on the deal, and took control.”

“... Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll get him back, Sam. Dean-o’s a tough cookie, he’ll be okay.”

Sam didn’t reply to that; he glanced away, rubbing his palms over his eyes. Gabriel saw the way Sam’s soul ached, and against every instinct in his body screaming against the thought of touch, he shuffled forward and wrapped his arms around Sam’s chest.

Sam stilled at first, stunned more than anything. It only took a moment for Sam to melt into the warm embrace, his own hands curling into tight fists in Gabriel’s shirt. Gabriel wondered, with a pang of sadness, just how damn touch starved Sam was.

Gabriel found himself feeling oddly safe in Sam’s arms, pressed against the hunter’s chest. This was entirely for Sam’s benefit though, he reasoned with himself. He was just prolonging the hug to give Sam comfort. It certainly wasn’t at all in any way for himself.

Completely selfless.

Sam gripped tighter; Gabriel didn’t even notice his own pained noise till he was pushed away, out into the lonely cold, Sam looking at him with concern written across his features.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Shit, I’m sorry, I-”

“Sam, chill! Never been better, honest!” Gabriel lied, tilting his head and fluttering his eyes in faux innocence. “B-t-dubs, have you got any medical stuff I can borrow, and by borrow, I mean use?”

As Gabriel tilted his head, looking up at the hunter, Sam noticed the thin pink line on his neck, just below his stubble. Gabriel tensed as Sam moved his hand forward, sighing as gentle fingers tilted his chin up.

“Did he...?” Sam trailed off, his expression oscillating between confusion, horror and pity.

Gabriel turned away, dropping his head a little lower than before, hiding the scarring. “Yup,” he replied, popping the p. “Not the problem, though. Got shish-kebabed, remember?”

“Let me take a look.”

“Really, Sam, it’s fine. I just need to change the dressings.”

Sam folded his arms across his chest, one eyebrow raised. Gabriel figured this was how a misbehaving child felt, under Sam’s glare. He wasn’t too pleased being compared to a misbehaving child, even if it was his own comparison.

“Wait here,” Sam replied, already pushing himself up and off the bed.

Gabriel slouched back against the headboard, mumbling mostly to himself about how he didn’t exactly have anywhere to go anyways, as Sam left the room, leaving the door gaping open.

It only took a few minutes of waiting before Sam half-charged back in, dressings and gauze and all sorts of miscellaneous medical items Gabriel didn’t recognise piled up in his arms. He kicked the door shut, and dumped the supplies down on the duvet.

“Take your shirt off.”

“I’m a classy lady, Sammy, at least take me to dinner first!”

Sam rolled his eyes as Gabriel smirked at his own joke. He pulled his shirt off, wincing slightly as the movement tugged at the healing wound. Under Sam’s gaze, Gabriel felt self-conscious and exposed in a way he hadn’t around Alicia.

Calloused hands, oddly gentle for their size, began to unravel the white bandages wrapped about Gabriel’s abdomen. Gabriel did his utmost best not to think about those large hands, skimming over his bare skin.

“Give me a moment,” Sam mumbled, though mostly to himself. He moved around Gabriel, fluffing and laying out all the pillows propped against the headboard. “I’m going to touch you, okay? Just your shoulders, to help you lie back.”

Gabriel hated that he needed warnings now, that he’d still flinch at physical contact, but he appreciated that Sam respected that. “Sure,” he said, nodding.

Sam’s hands were careful as they came to rest on his shoulders, taking the bulk of Gabriel’s weight as he lay back.

“Oh Nurse Winchester,” Gabriel cooed, deliberately shifting his pitch up, “are you going to take care of my every pressing need?”

“Shut up,” Sam said, though his voice was fond.

“F-y-i, your bedside manner is shit.”

“Noted. Now shut up.”

Gabriel smirked, and settled back into the pillow pile. He watched as Sam’s twisted in concentration, his brows pinched together, teeth biting down on his lower lip, as he peeled away the dressing.

Tossing the old dressing aside, Sam took a moment to survey the wound. “Whoever patched you up did a good job,” Sam hummed in approval. The skin around the starburst scar was still slightly ruddy, but there were no indications of infection or tearing.

“She saved my life. Well, team effort really, but she was my anchor. Friendly face and all that.”

Gabriel drew a sharp breath as Sam swiped over the area with a cold antiseptic wipe. “I’d love to hear the full story sometime,” Sam said, dropping the used wipe next to the dressing. “That is, if you’re up for it?”

There was such a genuine interest in Sam’s voice, Gabriel felt his heart jump. The sheer care and concern in the way Sam looked at him would’ve knocked Gabriel over, had he not already been lying down.

“Story time. Sounds like fun. Maybe we can get a bonfire going too, really go for it!”

Sam laughed and shook his head, moving back to focus on redressing. He pressed the clean gauze down, outlining the edges with medical tape. “You really do have a knack for turning up when we’re at our most desperate, don’t you?”

“I’m basically your very own deus ex machina, rocking up against all odds when everything goes to shit.”

Sam huffed and smiled, well aware that he hadn’t felt this at peace in weeks. The looming threat of Michael, and the desperate need to get Dean back still sat at the forefront of his mind, but for once, Sam felt like they might actually be capable of pulling it all off.

The guilt over Gabriel’s death had abated somewhat too. Tendrils still lingered, latching onto his thoughts every now and then, as Gabriel had died for them. He was here though, warm under Sam’s fingertips, his heart beating rhythmically, his lungs pumping oxygen; Gabriel was alive. Sam had a chance to fix this.

“Last I checked, deus ex machinas didn’t tend to die,” Sam joked back, then winced. It sounded insensitive out loud, but if Gabriel took offence, he didn’t show it.

“Hey! Never said I was good at being a plot device!”

Sam laughed at that, genuine and loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmm not entirely happy with this but figured you guys had waited long enough for an update, sorry
> 
> as always, comments and kudos make my day <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heed the updated tags
> 
> there are references to past torture in this chapter, and very light references to past non-con

The sound of footsteps coming down the corridor roused Castiel from his daze. A quick glance at his phone told him it was 3:47 am. Out of the bunker residents, Castiel guessed it was Sam - Gabriel looked ready to sleep for days, barely upright on his feet, and Jack had a relatively good sleep pattern.

In the hours that he’d sat watch, the rift had remained changeless, pulsing in a slow, rhythmic manner. Being the only one who didn’t sleep, Castiel had offered to stand guard and ensure nothing slipped through.

“Cas? You good?” Sam called out in a rough voice.

Castiel smiled briefly in amusement, his guess verified. “No change here. Shouldn’t you be asleep, Sam?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Then why...?”

“Kinda got woke up,” Sam said, shrugging, then quickly added on, “Don’t say anything though.”

Castiel frowned, regarding Sam carefully before he replied. “I don’t understand.”

“Uh, Gabe, he-” Sam cut himself off, pausing. “He’s not sleeping well, to put it nicely. I checked in on him, spoke with him a little, redid some dressings.”

At that, Castiel was alert. “Should I go check on him? What do you mean, dressings? Is Gabriel okay?” came the flurry of questions as Castiel jolted to his feet. It was only the soft touch of Sam’s hand on his forearm that held the seraph back from darting off down the corridor.

“He’s sleeping again now. Poor guy’s completely drained.”

“In more ways than one,” Castiel replied, relaxing a little. Sam winced at the morbid humour.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m guessing too. Got a scar on his neck that suggests the same, and a still healing wound where he was stabbed.”

The conversation hit a lull, and Castiel took the moment to half slump back into his chair, Sam following suit. Castiel knew what tiredness felt like from his time as a human, but this was something more. It felt as though the exhaustion that once plagued his mind, weighing heavy on his eyelids had moved deeper, seeping into his bones, weaving through his very core.

Years upon years of fighting and running and surviving and suppressing had left Castiel with a tiredness intrinsic to who he was, an integral part of his personality now.

“How’re you handling all this? Dean still gone, and Gabe being back, all that?”

“I don’t...” Castiel swallowed, glancing away. “I don’t think I am. I thought we’d have saved Dean by now, that he’d be here with us. Safe.”

A hand came to rest on Castiel’s shoulder, squeezing lightly; Castiel looked up at Sam, and he was met by sadness and understanding, but more than anything else, by hope. “I get it, I do. But he’ll be back soon, annoying us all again, laughing to himself over some dumb joke. I promise.”

The image of Dean, chuckling to himself as he moved around in his beloved kitchen, some novelty apron tied round his waist, the smell of burgers permeating through the air came to mind. It was a sight Castiel had seen many times before, and one he’d give anything to see again.

“And Gabriel, I- I don’t know how to process it. Every time he’s come back before, something’s taken him away again. I’m scared to accept he’s back, because I can’t trust he’ll still be here in a week’s time. Maybe death will take him, or maybe Michael. Maybe he’ll just run away again, and if I’m honest, I don’t think I’d blame him.

“I just can’t accept Gabriel is back, because once I do, I open myself to be hurt when he’s gone again, and I- I can’t do that, Sam. Losing Dean is too much; I can’t lose my brother again too.”

The raw emotion behind every word left Sam unable to respond for a moment, instead reeling at the rare show of vulnerability. He glanced over at Castiel, who glared resolutely at the rift ahead, jaw clenched tight.

Sam sighed, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “I get it, I do,” he started, sounding exhausted. “But we’ll pull through, Cas. Our little team always does. Only, it’s not so little anymore - we’ve got Jack too, and Gabe, and Rowena, and Mom. All of us, we’re gonna pull through. We’re gonna get Dean back, we’re gonna stop Michael, and we’ll all still be standing at the end.”

“I admire your conviction, Sam. I’m just not as hopeful.”

The conversation hit a lull, and the library lapsed into silence - Sam had no response, and Castiel had nothing more to say.

Sat there, in the quiet, watching the soothing pulses of the rift, Sam wondered how much of his little speech he actually believed. There was always a blood price to pay; someone always died when it came to saving the world.

Sam wouldn’t hesitate to put his neck on the chopping block if it meant saving everyone else, but he was well aware that most of the group possessed the same mentality. Someone always died a martyr, it was simply a question of who would prevail and offer themselves as sacrifice first.

“How do you do it, Sam? How do you still have hope?”

“I think...” Sam paused, glancing over at Castiel. “Sometimes, hope is all I have. Without hope, I- I would’ve cracked long ago. Hope gives me a chance, even if it’s just one in a million,” he said, each word careful and thought out. “And I know Dean. He’s strong, he’ll pull through this. He’ll need us there, even if he insists he’s fine, but Dean’s a fighter.”

“He is,” Castiel agreed, “The most stubborn human I’ve ever met.”

Sam huffed in amusement at that, eyes catching on the rift as it began to pulse haphazardly. He nudged Castiel with his elbow, drawing the angel’s attention to tear as it twisted and twirled, growing brighter. Castiel moved forward onto the edge of his seat, blade gripped tight in his palm.

The rift stuttered, flickering in and out of existence, before curling in on itself and snapping shut. The soft thrumming was gone, as was the rippling air that dispersed out with every pulse.

Nothing was left behind.

“Well, that’s one loose end dealt with,” Sam remarked as he moved across to the table, snatching one of the books piled up in the centre.

* * *

It was just after 10am when Gabriel woke for the second time, a solid six hours after the rift had sealed shut. His stomach rumbled in a now frustratingly familiar manner. Technically, he didn’t need to eat, he had enough grace now to survive without, but he didn’t want to whittle away his still pitiful reserve over basic vessel needs.

Slapping on his caricature personality, Gabriel followed the demands of his body, wandering till he came across Sam and Castiel in the library.

“So,” Gabriel called out, announcing his presence, “who’ve I got to blow to get some food around here? A dude needs to eat.”

Sam half winced, half gaped at him, and Castiel didn’t look away from his laptop, but his expression morphed into one of horror. “Gabe, you don’t have to-”

“Woah, chill,” Gabriel butted in, realising Sam had taken his poor attempt at humour very differently. “I was just pulling your leg, kid.”

“Right. Sorry,” Sam replied, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Just follow me, we’ll get you something sorted.”

Gabriel nodded and waited for Sam to lead the way, following him through the corridors down to the kitchen. Despite having spent a few days in the bunker before, Gabriel had spent most of his time distracted, and thus hadn’t learnt the layout. He intended to fix that as soon as possible.

“Anything off limits?” Gabriel asked when they reached the kitchen.

“Nah, it’s all free game. Need to get some more in soon,” Sam replied, moving over to the cupboards. “In here is the tinned stuff, then this one is like cereal and biscuits.” Sam moved down the counter, gesturing at the cupboards as he went. “This one is cooking stuff, like seasoning, all that. Dean was- Uh, is, the only one who uses that.”

Gabriel caught the slip up but didn’t comment, simply nodding along.

“Down here is plates, dishes, stuff you stick food on,” Sam continued, “and here is cups, glasses, etc. Fairly certain you know goes in the fridge and freezer, right?”

“Right.”

“Might be a dumb question, but do you know how to use ovens and microwaves and all that?”

Gabriel laughed at that, folding his arms across his chest. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Sam.”

“Right,” Sam hummed, amused. “Just wanted to check, make sure you weren’t going to accidentally start a fire.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head - only deliberate fires.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head as the corner of his eyes crinkled. The sound was deep, and warm, and something inside Gabriel fluttered, knowing he was the cause of that.

Searching through the nearest cupboard, Gabriel pushed himself up onto tiptoes, hands pressed flat against the counter to see the top shelf. Sam was right - there was disturbingly little choice. So far, Gabriel had found pasta, with no sauce, meat or vegetables to go with.

He chewed on his lips for a moment, mulling over the question on his tongue. “Hey, uh,” he said after a beat, voice quieter than before. “This might be kinda dumb, but when you go for food, can, ah- Fuck, nevermind. It’s dumb.”

Sam frowned as Gabriel dropped his head, drifting into silence. “Gabe? I’m not gonna judge you, whatever this is.”

Gabriel heard the sounds of Sam moving closer, and appreciated when Sam left some space between them. “I was just going to ask if I could come. It’s just- it’s been a really long time since I’ve been out in a normal way.”

“Ah.”

“See, I told you-” Gabriel started, but his rushed words didn’t get far.

“No! No, I get it, I do,” Sam interrupted. Gabriel looked up at him, frowning in confusion. “It’s constantly just fighting and killing and weird stuff, and you haven’t had a chance to stop in god knows how long.”

“Bet you haven’t been out in a while, either.”

Sam shrugged, and replied, “Been pretty caught up with Michael, and Dean, all that.”

Gabriel offered up a sympathetic smile over his shoulder as he continued to rifle through the half empty cupboards. “Good job you’ve got your very own holy nuke,” Gabriel mused as he grabbed at tin, read the label, then slid it back with a look of disdain. “Should come in handy.”

“You’re not just some we-”

“Ooh!” Gabriel interrupted, beaming at a can. “Spaghetti hoops! This’ll do for now.” Sam recognised a deflection when he saw one, well versed from his own use of Gabriel’s current tactics. “Lemme tell you, apocalypse world really needs some Emeril, their food was criminal.”

“... Who?”

“Y’know, Emeril Lagasse! Dude had a killer chilli recipe.” Sam continued to stare at Gabriel blankly, shaking his head. “Whatever, I just need something that doesn’t taste like ass. Not that that’s bad, necessarily, I just don’t want my food to taste like ass.”

“Gabe?”

“Hm?”

“You’re rambling.”

Gabriel blinked a few times, then wandered over the hob, pouring his spaghetti hoops into the pan. Sam watched as the archangel played around with the dials, seemingly determined to figure it out himself, before settling and grabbing a wooden spoon and a bowl.

There was something oddly domestic about watching Gabriel, Messenger of God, Archangel of Justice, Deliverer of the Annunciation, stirring a pan full of spaghetti hoops, scrunching his nose as the sauce began to bubble and steam. Sam felt himself grin as Gabriel went back to twirling the dials, trying to find the right temperature.

“Do you need any-”

“Nope!” Gabriel interrupted, threateningly waving a sauce covered spoon at Sam. “I’m going full Gordon Ramsay.”

Sam laughed, folding his arms and leaning back against the counter, entertained by the sheer look of focus and determination across Gabriel’s features as he glared at the spaghetti hoops.

It fast became obvious that Gabriel did not have the virtue of patience, frowning at the hoops, and eventually caving and tipping them into a bowl. Sam could only imagine how frustrating it was to have to wait even a few minutes for food, when before all it took was a snap of fingers.

Gabriel pushed himself up onto the counter, perched on the edge, bowl cradled in his lap and fork twirling between his fingers. The archangel looked adorably like an oversized bird, Sam mused, laughing internally. The noises Gabriel made were less than adorable though, and had to be exaggerated.

Sam raised an eyebrow as Gabriel continued, feeling almost like he was intruding on an intimate moment here, between Gabriel and his beloved spaghetti hoops. He decided to bite the bullet, and ask the question that had been nagging him.

“Can I... ask you something?”

“Sure,” Gabriel responded, between forks of spaghetti hoops.

Sam thought about his wording carefully before saying, “That joke, the one you made earlier. Did, uh, did he...?”

Gabriel looked up slowly, his fork resting in the half full bowl. “It was a joke, Sam. Nothing more,” he replied, his tone more calculated than usual. The lack of answer was answer enough for Sam.

“You can talk to me, you know that, right?”

“Look, Sam,” Gabriel said with a sigh, “I won’t lie to you. Shit happened. Shit that I don’t ever plan on talking about, not with you, not with anyone. But I’m fine! I swear!”

“Gabe, that’s not healthy. You know that.”

“Real rich, coming from a Winchester.”

“That’s fair,” Sam retorted, more tired than anything else. “But I’ve been working on that. Opening up to people. Actually talking about what happened, and how I feel, and it really does help.”

Gabriel didn’t respond, he simply turned away, shaking his head. Sam was his weakness, had always been the one who managed to get under his skin and into his mind from the very first time they met. If Sam kept pushing, Gabriel knew he would cave, and he wasn’t sure he was strong enough yet to not crumble under the weight of the memories.

It was hard enough handling them when they only came at night, or sprang forward and engulfed him in a flashback. The phantom pain of that cursed needle, jabbed greedily into his neck, lingered long into his waking hours. The burning agony as jagged blades carved deep in his vessel, hungry for blood and muffled screams, never truly left.

Willingly bringing those memories forward, and shouldering the full magnitude of the trauma - it was too much.

“If not me, please, just talk to someone. If you want, I could even try find a therapist,” Sam offered, carefully treading the line between hopeful support and desperate pleading. “One that specialises in this kind of thing, of course.”

“I- I can’t, Sam. I can’t talk about it, any of it. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay!” Sam replied quickly, hands lifted placatingly. “It’s too soon, I get that. Just know, you can talk to me.”

Gabriel nodded, looking back down to the bowl cradled in his lap. He lifted the fork, choosing to push the spaghetti hoops around, no longer interested in eating. He discarded the bowl, leaving it on the counter as he hopped down. It’d be a miracle if he held down the little he’d already ate.

Guilt gnawed at Sam; Gabriel had seemed in a good mood that morning. If he hadn’t pushed so hard, hadn’t brought trauma back to the forefront of their conversation, Gabriel would probably still be grinning and joking around. Now, it was like the light had been drained from him, head a little lower, shoulders curled in ever so slightly.

“You coming?” Gabriel called back, snapping Sam out of his train of thought. The mischievous lilt that normally ran through Gabriel’s words were gone, and it was his fault. “No time like the present, right?”

Sam simply followed, trailing just behind the archangel as Gabriel made his way back to Castiel, and to the library. Jack was there, too, sat next to Castiel, scrolling through endless new articles. When he looked up and caught sight of the two, his face lit up.

“Good morning, Sam,” Jack said first, then turned his attention to Gabriel. “Uncle! Did you sleep well?”

“Great,” Gabriel replied, his grin too wide and forced. “Like a log, kid.” Sam and Castiel shared a brief look of concern, but said nothing. “So, Michael. What’s the plan?”

Castiel’s frown deepened as he studied his brother. “Gabriel, you can rest. You’ve had a difficult few weeks, we don’t expect your help.”

The archangel looked insulted, clasping his hand against his chest in faux hurt. “Nonsense! I’ve had a nap, and I’m on a roll. No point stopping that moment. ‘Sides, I don’t suppose Dean-o is having fun right now.”

An awkward silence fell - Sam looked away, his jaw tight, and Castiel dropped his head a little. Jack simply looked sad, and it struck Gabriel just how much Jack had already suffered and lost in his short life.

“So, what’s the plan? Fill me in.”

Sam chewed his bottom lip for a moment before claiming the nearest empty seat; Gabriel followed suit, sitting down next to Castiel. “... There isn’t a plan,” Castiel said eventually, still refusing to make eye contact. “Michael is... too strong in his true vessel. We don’t have any kind of leverage over him.”

“We don’t have anything to force him out either,” Sam continued. “Dean would have to overpower him, but...” He trailed off for a moment, gathering his words. “Michael’s held the reins for too long. I don’t think Dean can.”

“If we can talk to him, maybe we can help Dean remember,” Jack suggested, his gaze flickering across the three older men. “If we can help him, he might be able to win.”

“I mean, before anything else, we need a way to summon Michael.”

“I can help with that,” Gabriel chirped in, drawing three sets of eyes to himself.

When it became clear that Gabriel had no intentions of continuing unprompted, choosing instead to rock back on his chair and kick his feet onto the table, Sam asked, “How, exactly?”

“The Horn of Gabriel. Anyone can play around with it, but only I know the little details, all the cool stuff she can do,” Gabriel said, glancing around as the collective focus fell on him. “Sure, anyone can use her as a summoning spell, but I can use her to call specific angels from anywhere, alive or dead.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. Castiel felt himself grow hopeful at the possibilities, the chance to save Dean and save Heaven, all with the same spell. “And we already have the ingredients. Came across an angel using it a while back.”

Gabriel frowned, his brow furrowing. “Gadreel,” Castiel filled him in, “He was working for Metatron. Long story.”

“Huh,” Gabriel replied, filing it away as something to ask about later. “What about trapping him?”

“We could use holy oil,” Jack piped up, glancing around at the hunter and the two angels for approval. “Make a holy fire ring, that would work, right?”

Sam shrugged, nodding. “Simple, but effective. Good thinking, Jack.”

The nephilim preened under the attention, beaming up at Sam, bright and excited. The prospect of possibly getting Dean back, finally, had lightened the mood significantly, and Jack’s innocent joy was contagious.

“So, summon him, trap him, and have a little chit chat?”

“That’s the plan,” Sam said, nodding, and it was noticeable just how much he’d brightened. Now, they had a realistic shot at saving Dean, at bringing him home safe, at stopping Michael.

“Coolio. Let’s rock and roll, gang.”

“Gang? Really?”

“Fine. Squad.”

“No.”

“Posse?”

“Gabe, shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmmm all that tasty foreshadowing
> 
> also, fun fact, emeril lagasse was a chef who was pretty popular 1995-2010, but became less well known after that. just so you know why gabriel references him, and doesn't get why sam doesn't recognise the name :)
> 
> as always, comments and kudos absolutely make my day, thank you for reading !! <3


	7. Chapter 7

“But why? The holy oil was my idea!”

“Jack,” Castiel said sternly, rounding on the nephilim. “It’s not safe. Michael is dangerous. If something goes wrong, you would get hurt.”

“That’s not fair! If something goes wrong, you’ll get hurt!”

“This isn’t up for debate - you’re not coming with us!”

Gabriel glanced between father and son, glaring each other down, and decided to intervene before someone said something they’d regret. “Jack, kid, come here,” he said, gesturing him over with a nod. Castiel frowned at him; Gabriel simply winked back. “I know you don’t like it, but your dad’s right.”

Jack huffed, expecting his uncle to take his side. “But it’s not fair!”

“I know it isn’t fair, kid, but that’s life sometimes,” Gabriel said as he shrugged and offered up an empathetic smile. “The thing is with dads, they’re stubborn as hell. Think they know right. And most of the time they do. I just learned, at least with my dad, it’s best to just shut up and nod along. Easiest that way.”

“I just want to help you guys out,” Jack argued back, but his voice had lost its frustrated edge. Now, he just sounded defeated and sad.

“You already have! The holy oil idea, remember?” Gabriel replied, ruffling his nephew’s hair. Jack crossed his arms and frowned, but there was no real annoyance there. “We just want to keep you safe. And I promise, as soon as we’re done, we’ll come right back to you, okay?”

Jack paused, drawing out the silence for dramatics - Gabriel was almost proud of his nephew. “Fine,” he conceded, “Just, promise me you’ll all be okay.”

“Course we will. Just, hold fire, okay?”

Frowning, Jack nodded. Gabriel offered up a sympathetic half smile, and stepped back, watching as Castiel spoke in low tones to his son.

“How’d you do that?”

“Hm?”

Gabriel couldn’t place Sam’s expression - there was the concern that seemed permanently etched into the hunter’s features, and the ever familiar empathy, but there was something deeper, something warmer as he looked at Gabriel.

“How’d you settle Jack down? He can be, ah, quite stubborn sometimes.” Sam’s tone was warm as he remembered the countless times Jack had insisted on trying to help.

“Archangel of children. Apparently. I lose track of all my titles, think humans just made some up,” Gabriel responded, waving his hand flippantly. “Seriously though, I got countless younger siblings. Throw in an absent dad, and you just have to suck it up and handle it.”

“... Didn’t Michael or Raphael help?”

“If it wasn’t the throne or ‘Dad’s Grand Plan’, Mike didn’t give a shit. And can you imagine Raph trying to raise fledglings? Man, they’d need so much therapy.” Gabriel paused, his brow furrowed, then added, “More therapy.”

Sam snorted and shook his head. “That’s rough, man.”

“Eh, several eons ago now. Think I’ve got bigger problems than generic daddy issues.”

For a moment, Sam simply regarded Gabriel, studying his expression, before saying, “You know, you can talk to me Gabe. I get that we’re not super close, or anything like that, but I understand.”

“You’ve got bucketloads of your own shit, kiddo. No offense. I’m not about to offload on you.”

Sam sighed - the obvious deflection wasn’t lost on him, but he didn’t try to push any further.

“C’mon Cassie, wrap it up, we’re burning daylight here!”

Castiel rolled his eyes at the nickname, but didn’t protest.

* * *

It was only a twenty minute drive to the nearest abandoned warehouse, punctuated only by a static, crackling radio. The signal was too weak, yet still it tried to air the generic broadcast, and still it failed.

No-one spoke - it was a tense drive, and everybody was too busy running through their own idea of a worst case scenario.

When they arrived, Sam and Castiel stepped in first, respective weapons raised. Gabriel followed closely behind them, holding the box of ingredients close to his chest. The warehouse was empty, bar a few rodents, and Gabriel sat on the floor, bowl balanced on his legs, as he began to work.

The silence was punctuated only the grinding of a pestle in a mortar bowl, crushing fairy bones and griffin feathers into splinters, blending it with blood. Gabriel worked quickly, his technique strangely graceful as he twisted the pestle. It was only a few minutes till he was satisfied with the mixture, and stood up, bowl clutched tight in one hand.

As Gabriel painted his sigil on the wall, vibrant against the greying brickwork, Sam finished laying the circle of holy oil and stepped back, gripping the lighter tight in his hand.

“Ready?”

Castiel nodded, his expression one of grim determination. “As I’ll ever be,” Sam replied, doing well to keep the nerves out of his voice.

Even with a seraph and an archangel for back up, Sam was dreading this encounter. He wasn’t sure he could cope seeing Michael’s expressions, Michael’s snarls and sneers and smirks, twisting Dean’s face. Sam knew how possession felt, knew how overwhelming it was, knew how just a few hours wore down on someone.

It’d been almost a month since Dean had said yes.

Blood smeared along the pale of Gabriel’s palm as he pressed down on the centre of the sigil, a soft blue glow emanating from under half lidded eyes.

“ _Mîkhā’ēl_!” Gabriel called out in a guttural tone, threaded with an element of his true voice. The air crackled with palpable power as the sigil hummed.

There was a moment of tense silence, promptly shattered by the familiar sound of wing beats. Sam dropped the lighter in an instant, the circle alight in a tower of blessed flames.

It was Dean, but it wasn’t even close to Dean.

Clad in a long duster coat that brushed mid calf, a paperboy cap and a full fitted suit, the figure looked nothing like Dean, and every part the intimidating authority figure Michael strived to embody. Michael lifted his chin - Dean’s chin - and stared down at them, looking vaguely amused.

Castiel saw what he’d fallen again and again to save Dean from; Gabriel saw the older brother who tore into him, stole from him in the worst way and left him to bleed out; Sam saw someone suffering in the same way he once had, a brother he’d give anything to save.

“Gavri’el,” Michael responded in a similar, raw sound. “Fancy seeing you here! I thought I’d left you in that ruined world to rot.”

“Yeah, well, I’m like a bad rash,” Gabriel replied, shrugging nonchalantly as he stepped forward from the sigil. Michael matched his movement, moving towards the edge of the holy fire, tilting his head as he coolly regarded the younger archangel. “Can’t get rid of me that easily. Sorry, bro.”

“I’d say you’re more like a cockroach. Insignificant and worthless, yet amusingly resilient.” A small smile curled Michael’s lips, the cold cruelness disturbingly out of place on Dean’s face. “I will crush you underfoot though.”

They both knew Michael’s words had hit their mark when Gabriel’s facade slipped for a moment, revealing the pain underneath. Gabriel regathered himself though, plastered his mask back in place, and pushed on before anyone else in the room noticed.

“Right now, you’re not exactly in a great position to be making threats, Mikey.”

“I’m a patient being, little brother.”

Before, Gabriel would have flourished in a war of words, his ability to construct scathing retorts unrivalled. It was his divine gift, a complete command over the power of language. Now though, Gabriel had lost confidence in his abilities, and in himself.

Sam noticed that, and intervened before Michael continued with his verbal assault. “Enough!” Sam yelled, his voice echoing through the room. “Release Dean now!”

Silence hung thick in the air, sticky and cloying as Michael stared at Sam, his expression unreadable. His eyes flickered across Sam, like he was cataloguing the hunter, assessing him to determine if he was simply a minor annoyance, or a potential wrench to be removed.

Then Michael laughed. Loud and derisive and genuinely entertained, Michael laughed.

“And what will you do if I say no, Sam? I hold all the power here.”

“I’ll force you out,” Sam hissed, his face twisted.

“Force me out, and I’ll tear Dean’s soul out, drag it along with me. You’ll just be left with the lifeless husk of your brother’s body.”

Sam faltered.

“You’re bluffing,” Gabriel growled.

“Try me,” Michael replied.

Castiel stepped up between them, staring Michael down. “We will stop you,” he said, his eerily cool and calculated. As Castiel tilted his head, Michael mirrored him perfectly, his expression dropping once again into a calm emptiness. It unsettled Castiel deeply, seeing Dean’s face so devoid of emotion. “We will find a way, I can promise you that.”

“You won’t, little Castiel,” Michael replied, shrugging. “You’re just a little annoyance, a fly that won’t leave me alone. You have no real standing here.” Castiel clenched his jaw but didn’t respond, resisting Michael’s goading. “So, where do we go from here? Because you’re all out of options, and I’m getting bored.”

“You don’t know that,” Sam snapped back, but with no real conviction.

“Oh, I do,” Michael replied through a taunting smile. “You’re all out of ideas.”

Gabriel noticed Michael’s fingers twitching, tucked just behind his coat, and frowned.

“Admit defeat, you hold nothing over me.”

Something wasn’t right.

“You’re simply stalling, in the hopes you’ll come up with something on the fly.”

Except, Gabriel realised, Michael was also stalling.

It was too little, too late though - Gabriel glanced up just as a pipe came crashing down from the ceiling, breaking the circle of holy fire. In less than a moment, Michael had Gabriel pinned against the wall by his neck, watching in sadistic amusement as the younger archangel began to panic.

Michael leaned in, his cheek brushing against Gabriel’s, and said, low enough for only them to here, “I should just kill you, really. Save myself some trouble.” The drawn out pause was filled only with Gabriel’s frantic breathing, and Sam and Castiel, yelling in the background. Neither archangel paid them any mind. “Really, I should, but this is just too much fun.”

Gabriel clawed desperately at Michael’s wrist, trying to get some kind of leverage, his feet barely brushing over the ground. “Tell you what, little one. Offer me something better than my true vessel,” Michael murmured, and Gabriel wanted nothing more than to get free, to find a safe corner, to escape. “Present me with a deal I’d be a fool to refuse, then you can have the human.

“But if you dare get in my way again, I will kill you, and your friends,” Michael continued. Ignoring the way Gabriel’s attempts to break away were growing increasingly sluggish, Michael pulled back, and spoke loudly enough for the others to hear. “Let it be known that I’m a merciful God, and that I do forgive. But don’t test me.”

In an instant, Michael vanished, and Gabriel fell to his knees. He braced himself against the floor, drawing deep, greedy breaths of air.

“Gabriel! He’s gone, are you okay? ”

“Gabe, hey, deep breaths for me. In two three four, out two three four.”

Logically, Gabriel knew they were speaking to him. He could comprehend the sound of words, but his brain struggled with sorting through them, attaching meaning and deciphering the sounds.

“Wait, don’t touch him. I can handle this, Cas.”

There were a few scuffling noises just ahead, and Gabriel wanted nothing more than to run. Someone coming close meant pain, and he had to get away, had to at least try, but his throat still burned as he gulped deep breaths.

“Focus on my voice, okay? You’re safe here, it’s just me and Cas, and you know we won’t hurt you.”

Despite the absolute need to escape that gripped him tight, that warm tone still managed to break through, to thaw through some of the bitter horror in his chest.

“See? There we go, nice slow breaths. You’re all good, I’ve got you, we’ve got you.”

The uneven ground dug into Gabriel’s palms, jagged and uncomfortable and real. It was another sensation to cling to, the feeling of rough peaks pressed hard against his skin.

This was real.

“Can I touch you, Gabe? Can I help you up?”

Sam. It was Sam’s voice. He was here, with Sam and Castiel, kneeling on the ground. Gabriel nodded slowly, and tensed as Sam’s hands gripped loosely about his shoulders, helping him into a sitting position.

Absently, one hand lifted to his chin, index finger roughly tracing the underside of his bottom lip. Gabriel hadn’t noticed the new habit, but Sam had; it was a subconscious need to check that this was all real, that the stitches were still gone.

“Hey, there you are,” Sam said gently with a small nervous smile.

“Yeah. Here. Sorry.”

Somehow, Sam’s voice had managed to snake through the cracks, to fend off the blinding panic that threatened to take ahold of him. Sam could change his emotional state, his mental stability with ease; the words of someone else held power over Gabriel, and that scared him.

It wasn’t commanding, though. They didn’t grip him tight with fear, like Asmodeus’ every utterance did. No, Sam’s words had wormed their way far deeper into Gabriel, influencing him on an intimate level, in a fraction of the time.

Gabriel was aware that his emotional stability was becoming dependant on one human, and that truly did scare him.

“Are... are you okay? Was it something he said?” Castiel asked, and the sheer concern there made Gabriel feel ill. Just the thought of someone caring about him felt so wrong. Castiel was just pretending to care, to be nice, Gabriel reasoned. He could play along with that.

“Peachy. Just spaced out for a moment there, but I’m firmly back on Earth now.”

“Gabri-”

“I’m good,” Gabriel snapped, wincing at the sharpness in his own tone. “Sorry, I’m fine, pinkie promise.”

Castiel didn’t look convinced, but relented none the less; Gabriel was relieved when his brother nodded with that tight lipped grimace.

“What did he say to you?”

Gabriel glanced away, turned to pack the leftover ingredients and bowl away as he lied. He couldn’t face Sam, couldn’t risk crumbling and telling him. “Just taunting, being a dick, all that kinda blah blah blah.”

“Great,” Sam sighed, rubbing his palms over his eyes. “Back to square one.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel agreed, choosing not to mention the foundations of a plan, already laid in his mind. “Back to the drawing board.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit shorter than normal, but it's finally an update - sorry about the wait


	8. Chapter 8

The drive back was quiet.

Sam had a maelstrom of emotions raging below his neutral exterior - horror at seeing how Michael wore Dean, used Dean like nothing more that a nice suit; hopelessness, as he struggled to turn up any new plans on saving his brother; concern over how Gabriel remained silent in the back seat, somewhat curled in on himself, watching the landscape go by; exhaustion, bone deep and consuming.

Castiel felt broken. Everything he’d done, everything he’d sacrificed, everything he’d lost to keep Dean out of Michael’s hands had all been for nothing. All the siblings he’d slain, all the pain he’d endured, and still, Dean had ended up as a tyrannical archangel’s new play toy.

Gabriel was... unsure how he felt. There was an emptiness in his mind, and a tidal wave of panic, ebbing at the edge of his consciousness, threatening to flood over. He had to stay clear minded, though. Had to think, to build a plan. He could do this - he had to do this - but finding the courage to follow through was difficult.

There was still so much Gabriel wanted to say, so much he wanted to do.

His finger tips traced across the front of his neck, over sensitive skin that would almost definitely be a mottled blue colour within a few hours. The physical sensation helped Gabriel ground himself as he drew up a mental checklist, a series of things he had to do over the next few days.

* * *

Jack deflated the moment he saw them arrive, Dean nowhere in sight.

Castiel went straight over to his son, one hand on Jack’s shoulder. Gabriel didn’t hear a word he said, too focused on getting back to his room. It was simply four walls, a bed and a chest of draws, yet the security it offered Gabriel was unrivalled. There was nowhere he felt safer than there, and now, with the phantom sensation of Michael’s fingers curled tight around his throat, he needed that safety.

Sam noticed the one mindedness with which Gabriel moved, recognised the distant look in his eyes, and sighed.

Sam knew he should’ve followed Gabriel, sat with him, spoke with him, but he didn’t have the energy. Non-stop searching for Michael, and caring for Jack, and managing the refugees, and supporting Castiel, Sam was left so strung out. He resented himself for not being able to follow Gabriel, knowing first hand just where the archangel’s mind could and would wander, but Sam had nothing left.

Instead, he cast a guilty look towards Gabriel’s retreating figure, and numbly wandered into the kitchen instead.

Moving entirely on autopilot, Sam began to boil some water, and heaped two spoons of instant coffee into a mug. He should’ve gone after Gabriel, but the way Dean had looked at them all, like they were little more than ants, worthless and amusing, haunted him.

Logically, Sam knew that wasn’t Dean. Dean could never wear such a cruel and calculated expression. It was hard to divorce Michael and Dean, though, and Sam knew that was going to linger with him for a long time.

He poured the water in first, wincing as a droplet splashed against his hand, then the milk. The stirring motion was repetitive and calming, and Sam let himself focus entirely on the simple action, watching as the liquid swirled around.

Content, he placed the spoon in the sink, and cupped the mug between his hands. Sam slumped against the counter, head bowed, simply enjoying the warmth on his palms. For a moment, everything was peaceful, and the world stopped turning. Dean wasn’t suffering endlessly, alone and trapped. Jack wasn’t powerless and feeling worthless. Castiel wasn’t endlessly blaming himself for everything that transpired. Gabriel wasn’t constantly battling against waves of PTSD, crashing over him and drowning everything out.

Everything was normal, and okay.

He didn’t hear as Castiel and Jack entered the kitchen, too caught up in his own thoughts.

“Sam? Are you okay?”

Sam blinked up from the coffee he cradled between his hands, to Castiel, watching him with concern. Jack stood just behind, his expression a mirror image of the angel.

“Huh?” Sam started, then blinked again. “Yeah, I’m- good. Great. Just processing, y’know?”

Castiel simply smiled sadly at him, and nodded. “Go, sit down. You’ve spent far too long looking after everyone else.”

“But the check-”

“No. Jack and I will handle checking in with everyone,” Castiel interrupted, punctuated by Jack nodding enthusiastically.

“I enjoy talking to the other hunters!” Jack supplied, and Sam felt himself soften at how innocent and sweet Jack still was, even after everything he’d seen and suffered through. “I like hearing about their hunts, it sounds exciting.”

“Okay,” Sam said eventually, his lips curling slightly. “Just, let me know if anything comes up, yeah?”

“Of course.”

As Castiel and Jack turned and left, Castiel’s hand resting gently on his son’s shoulder, Sam sagged back against the counter and took a few more moments to try and ground himself. When it became clear that it wasn’t working, his thoughts constantly circling back to the cruel sneer that looked out of place on Dean’s features, to the way his brother looked so little like his brother, Sam settled on trying to distract himself instead.

Wandering out to the library, sipping at his coffee, Sam decided that he had to be useful somehow. The only way he could truly distract himself was by throwing himself into the case - standing there numbly only served to compound his guilt.

He could still be useful.

Settling down at the table, Sam placed his coffee down and opened up his laptop. Though it was a long shot, archangels were unnervingly powerful creatures - if Michael was trying to do something, it was likely there were signs, minor oddities cropping up, and local news websites snapped up said oddities on slow days.

The minutes ticked over into hours, and Sam felt himself calmed by the familiarity of scrolling through articles, sifting for clues. This was just another hunt, that’s all. The stakes were a little higher than usual, and the duration was a little longer than usual, but it was just a regular hunt.

Track down the monster, save the day, head home and wake up the next morning, ready to start again.

Sam let the absurd clickbait headlines override his own thoughts, till he fell into a mindless rhythm of scrolling and scanning.

When Gabriel sat down across the table from him several hours later, Sam felt that earlier pang of guilt resurface. Gabriel looked unsure, anxious, and Sam bit his tongue and continued scrolling through the news site, waiting till Gabriel felt comfortable enough to voice his thoughts.

Eventually, Gabriel began to ease, opening his hands from where they curled vice tight about his forearms, leaving nail marks behind. Sam noticed how he seemed to open up physically, leaning onto the table, and realised he was about to speak.

“You ever have a morbid curiosity? About something you reeeeaaaally shouldn’t?”

“What d’you mean?” Sam asked, though his attention didn’t waiver from the laptop in front of him.

Gabriel paused, trying to string his thoughts in logical sentences. He hated it, how words seemed to evade him whenever he wanted to open up. “Like, I want to know how much.” Sam lifted his head, one eyebrow raised as he watched Gabriel. “You know. What’s my value. My listing price. I just want to know - how much dough did Loki make?”

Slowly, Sam closed the laptop over; his focus was on Gabriel now, who seemed to curl in on himself a little more with each passing moment.

“Gabe,” Sam said softly, his chest tightening when Gabriel looked up at him, vulnerable and raw. “You’re a living, breathing being - you don’t have a monetary value. You’re not just some object for sale.”

Gabriel laughed, but it was sharp and bitter. “I can point you to a few people who’d say otherwise.”

Sam reached across the table, curled his own hand carefully around Gabriel’s; Sam did his best to ignore the involuntary twitch of muscles beneath his palm. Gabriel looked down at their interweaved fingers, shocked at the comforting gesture, yet grateful for the physical anchor. “They’re all dead, which is exactly what they deserve. Your worth is so much more than a price tag.”

Gabriel didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t protest either. This belief was ingrained deep - Sam knew it’d take a lot more than one short conversation to change it.

Sam took the silence as a chance to guide the conversation, and satisfy the nagging guilt.

“I’m- I’m sorry, for earlier. You weren’t okay, and I saw that, and I didn’t do anything.”

Gabriel frowned, taken somewhat aback. “It’s cool? I’m a big boy, I can handle myself sometimes.”

“No,” Sam replied, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that alone. Not after how Michael attacked you. I shouldn’t have-”

“Sam,” Gabriel interrupted. “Look at me. Please?” He paused until Sam finally looked up and saw how Gabriel was watching him with an unreadable expression. “Your job isn’t to babysit me. You should be your priority, always, and after what you saw today kiddo, I know you’re not doing great either.”

Sam made to interrupt, but Gabriel shushed him, pressing a finger to his lips. Sam wasn’t sure whether to laugh or feel insulted. “I’m not finished yet, zip it. I’m just going to feel even shittier if you start neglecting yourself, and your own shit just to deal with me, okay? And I know you have your own shit, Sam. Kinda all-knowing, remember?

“Don’t feel bad you can’t duct tape me back together all the time. You’ve given me somewhere safe to sleep, and food. You’ve helped me find parts of myself I thought were long gone. You’ve given me more kindness than I ever deserved from anyone, let alone you. Don’t beat yourself up kiddo, please.”

Gabriel watched Sam carefully, like he was waiting for a response. Sam raised an eyebrow and gestured at the finger still pressed to his lips. With a sharp laugh and a sheepish “Whoops!”, Gabriel pulled away

“I know it’s not my job - I’m not helping because I feel obliged to, but because I want to Gabe. I know how it feels, and I just don’t want you to have to handle that alone.”

Mulling it over, Gabriel nodded slowly to himself. “I appreciate that. Really. Just don’t think you always need to sew the pieces back together.” Gabriel frowned for a moment, before laughing bitterly. “Ha. See what I did there?”

The morbid humour didn’t sit quite as well with Sam.

They weren’t all that different, the Gabriel that was bloodied and beaten, flinching at any noise or movement, and this Gabriel here. Behind the mask, the archangel was still deeply traumatised, struggling through day to day life and forcing himself to seem functional. Sam had been there in the aftermath of Asmodeus, when he’d woke up screaming, disconnected from reality. His time in the Apocalypse world had only made that worse.

“Can I say something? I just, y’know, need to get this off my chest, just in case.”

Sam frowned, felt something anxious and confused twisting deep inside his chest, but nodded. “Uh, sure, yeah. What’s up?” Sam asked, watching Gabriel carefully for any kind of tell.

“I want- hm. This is difficult,” Gabriel held a finger up as he glanced away, taking a moment to rebuild his resolve. “Right. Okay. Cool. I want to apologise, Sam. I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve said the s-word,” Gabriel continued. He didn’t sound as sure of himself as he did a few minutes ago. “But I’m sorry, I really am. I put you guys, mostly you, through a lot of shit that you didn’t deserve. I thought that maybe, in some messed up roundabout way, I was helping, but all I did was hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

Sam blinked - he hadn’t expected this.

This was unfiltered Gabriel, no plastered on smirks or perfected facades to hide behind. This was Gabriel, raw and vulnerable and genuine, as he watched Sam, almost desperate for some kind of reaction.

Sam considered his words carefully. “When we found out who you were, it made sense. I’ll be honest, I hated you for a while, it took time for that to go away. But when you told us your name, about your family, I understood.” Gabriel nodded, weary of where Sam was going, but willing to listen and accept. “I forgave you years ago, when it clicked that, at the core of it, we weren’t all that different. Willing to go to extreme lengths for family. In the end, you helped us stop the Apocalypse. You stood up to your own brother.

“I’ve already forgiven you, but thank you.”

Something flickered across Gabriel’s face, but it was gone before Sam could place it, settling into grateful relief. “No,” Gabriel said quietly, “Thank you.”

An awkward silence followed. Gabriel nodded, mostly to himself, and stood up. With a small smile on his face, Gabriel looked oddly at peace, and wandered out of the room. Sam frowned and filed it away in his mind as something to decipher later.

Not long later, Castiel stalked in, trench coat billowing out behind him. Sam wondered briefly, as he had many times before, whether Castiel was capable of making a regular entrance.

The seraph seemed to have a penchant for the dramatics, whether it was blowing lightbulbs, or simply storming in framed by his tan almost-cape. Mentally kicking himself, Sam snapped out of his thoughts and caught Castiel’s gaze.

“Hey. Anything?”

Castiel shook his head. “Michael appears to have returned to hiding. No-one had anything to report. I intend on visiting Heaven soon, to see if they have any intel, and assess how badly the remains of the Host is faring”

Sam grimaced and sighed, rubbing the palm of his hand over his eyes. “Nothing here either. I’ve spent hours trawling through news sites and social media, looking for anything, but...” Sam trailed off, shrugging. He couldn’t help but think that Dean would know what to do here.

“I... I don’t know what to do.”

“... Me neither.”

The conversation hit a lull, both uncertain how to move forward. Dean’s absence left a painfully noticeable hole - where once he would’ve added to talks with his own bad ideas and snark, now there was just silence, and no-one quite knew how to fill it.

Sam opened a few fresh tabs, tapping away in the search bar. Though it had yet to yield anything useful, Sam couldn’t find it in himself to stop. He needed to be doing something, trying to help Dean somehow, and sifting through news article after useless news article, hunting the old fashioned way, was all that came to mind.

“Sam, when was the last time you slept?”

Sam frowned, glancing at the clock on his laptop. He hadn’t noticed the hours flying past, night tipping over into early morning. Now Castiel had mentioned it, he realised just how exhausted he actually was.

“Last night? But only a few hours.”

“Please rest. I know you want to help Dean, but you have limits, Sam, and you need to take care of yourself too.”

Sam offered up a forced smile, and nodded. “You’re right. I just... I feel guilty any time I’m not actively doing something, you know?”

“I know,” Castiel replied, sounding as tired as Sam felt.

“This might sound dumb, but in the morning, can you try talking to Gabe? See if he’s alright?” Sam asked. Castiel tilted his head, frowning. “He’s been acting a bit off, and I’m worried. Figured maybe since you’re his brother, he might actually open up to you.”

Castiel’s expression softened, and he nodded. “Of course. I appreciate you showing concern for Gabriel, despite your history.”

“That’s part of it, actually. He apologised to me earlier, for all that. Said it was for “just in case”, which totally doesn’t sound like he’s got some ridiculous idea in his head.”

“That does sound,” Castiel paused, frowning. “Out of character, perhaps? Odd, at the very least. I’ll speak to him, see what he says.”

“Thanks,” Sam replied and stood up, stifling a yawn. He closed the lid of his laptop over, tucking it underneath his arm. “Night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Sam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you may have noticed, this work is now part of a series, and the chapter count has gone up to 20!! i do have a potential sequel in mind, and lots of oneshot ideas (like sam and gabriel actually attempting grocery shopping)
> 
> the chapter count could go back to 19, but that's up to you guys and how much you'd like to suffer - i'll ask again when we get to the relevant point in the fic :)
> 
> tune back in next time to find out if gabriel is still being a dumbass (though how is still a mystery)
> 
> as always, comments and kudos absolutely make my day!!! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: very brief mention of suicidal ideation (like two lines long)

Gabriel woke early that morning.

Though his sleep had been uninterrupted, nightmares and flashbacks finally gifting him a night of peace, he still felt utterly exhausted when he woke. More than anything, he felt empty, as though all energy had been drained from him.

It took a few minutes of mental debate before Gabriel finally sat up, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing stray strands out of his eyes.

These four walls had become a safe haven. _How odd_ , he thought. Once, he would’ve been horrified at somewhere so bare, so small and characterless, but now... Now, he struggled to see the point in a more lavish style. It was a room, and it did exactly as a room should. It gave him somewhere to hide away, somewhere to feel secure, somewhere to sleep.

Gabriel groggily moved across the room, yawning and rubbing his eyes as he went. Pulling a plain black t-shirt and grey jogging bottoms out of the draws, he quickly got dressed, then shrugged a thin morning robe on top, tying it loosely about his waist.

It was unlikely anyone else was awake this early, and Castiel was likely resting in his room. Gabriel felt oddly relieved about that.

He was grateful to them, opening up their home to him, giving him somewhere to stay and ground himself, but Gabriel hadn’t had time to be with himself and simply think in over a month.

This was a chance to get his mind in order, to flesh out his plan, to just appreciate this freedom whilst he still had the chance.

Not bothering with shoes - Gabriel had learned he quite enjoyed walking barefoot, he felt free - he left his room, navigating the corridors with ease. He knew this place inside out now, had spent what little free time he’d had familiarising himself with the layout, the escape routes, the hiding places.

It didn’t take long to find the tucked away staircase, leading up to the roof. Exactly where Gabriel wanted to be.

As he opened the rooftop door, the early morning chill hit him hard, sending a shiver down his spine. If Sam found out, Gabriel knew he’d be grumbled at for not dressing appropriately, but the sharp cold made him feel more alive.

He stepped forward, tentatively unfurling his wings. The breeze rolled through the feathers, leaving a gentle tickling sensation behind, and Gabriel sighed contentedly. It’d been so long since he’d had the chance to truly stretch them, and the burn in his muscles felt so good. In the other world, he’d been too scared to open them and see how ruined they truly were, and here, he just hadn’t had time (or a large enough area).

Now, though, as he flexed them, letting all three pairs spread to their full span, Gabriel felt his anxieties settle a little. He could still move them, still had full motor control, that was good.

Taking a deep breath, Gabriel steeled himself. He had to look sooner or later, he’d put this off for far too long as it was. Angling his wings around, Gabriel turned to face them, and opened his eyes.

Soft downy feathers had began to emerge, still delicate and fluffed. The charring wasn’t as bad as Gabriel had feared - a few patches were still stained black, burnt ashen feathers barely still intact. Regrowth was good though. Regrowth meant they weren’t permanently damaged.

He let out a sigh of relief.

Gabriel began to sift through the insides of his wings, plucking out the loose, singed feathers. It was repetitive and calming, and gave him time to think.

Lucifer was dead.

Michael was here.

Dean was gone.

Sam, Castiel and Jack were... not doing great.

Alicia, Max, Hannah, all the people who saved him, who’d helped him find his way home, were relying on him.

Gabriel had to stop Michael, but he knew he wasn’t strong enough to stop Michael. Not directly, at least.

The feeling of another’s grace fast approaching snapped him out of his thoughts. Gabriel relaxed as he recognised it as Castiel, not realising just how fast the tension had built in his body. Even now, when logic said it could only be Castiel, his hands curled tight around the edge of the roof, ready to push off and attempt flight.

His mind was trapped in permanent flight mode, even in places that Gabriel logically knew he was safe, and he hated it.

“... Your wings,” Castiel said after a bit, his eye widening at the sight. “They look... young. And beautiful.”

Gabriel ducked his head, folding his wings in. Once upon a time, when he was still only a few billion years old, his wings were his pride and joy. They were aerodynamic and sleek in a way that no others were, and Gabriel was unrivalled when it came to speed. He was the Messenger, able to move from on edge of Heaven to the other in minutes, and the fledglings would stare in awe when they saw him, framed by three colossal sets.

His colouring was unique, elegant and regal - golden in a way that shimmered under the sunlight, cementing his otherworldly image. It was a feature his older siblings possessed too, a mark of archangelic nature. Lower angels had simple plain colours, but theirs were brilliant, refracting all light.

Now, well.

It had been a long time since Gabriel would refer to any part of himself as beautiful. Once a source of pride, his wings were now simply a reminder of a family he ran from, a home he abandoned, a title he never deserved.

“I’m sorry - you’re self-conscious now.”

 _No shit Sherlock_ , Gabriel thought halfheartedly to himself. He drew his wings back in, gritting his teeth at the uncomfortable twinge as they vanished back into their normal plane of existence.

An awkward silence hung between them as Castiel simply stood there, and Gabriel fixed his gaze on the rising sun, facing straight ahead.

“You’re not going to... jump, are you?”

Gabriel’s head snapped up at that, and he laughed incredulously. “No way, Cas, don’t you worry,” he insisted. It wasn’t really lying if he hadn’t planned to, but was simply curious, was it? “Doubt it’d do much more than give me a few aches now anyways. If I was planning on that, I would’ve took the leap of faith when I first got here.

“Nah. I’m just out here to watch the sunrise. Get a bit of fresh air, y’know?”

Castiel frowned and shook his head. “Not exactly,” he said, perching beside Gabriel, his legs hooking over the edge. “It is crisp out here, though, and I’ll always admire the brilliance of Creation.”

Gabriel grinned and nudged Castiel with his elbow. “Proud of you, baby bro. Gotta take some time to appreciate the small things in life. Really puts all those little problems into perspective.”

Castiel tilted his head, squinting, and Gabriel snorted in amusement at the avian-like response.

“Alright, whatever, I guess a tyrannical, super powered bird, hell bent on... whatever it is he’s after, is a little more than a minor problem.” Gabriel waved his hand dismissively, and continued, “Poh-tay-toh, poh-tah-toh, same difference.”

“I don’t-” Castiel started, but was cut off.

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t understand. Heard that record a thousand times before.”

A moment passed between them, but a blip in their lifetime. Unspoken words and barely disguised emotions hung heavy between them.

When the silence grew too much, overstaying its welcome, Gabriel turned to his brother and said, “This doesn’t seem like your normal haunt, so what’s up?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Come on, something’s gnawing at you. Spit it out.”

Castiel licked his lips, glancing down, uncomfortable. “Gabriel, I’m concerned about you. Sam is too.”

Gabriel blinked. That was unexpected. It made him feel unsettled, though he couldn’t place his finger on why. Choosing to skim over the words, instead of trying to understand them, and why they caused such a reaction in him, Gabriel pointedly turned away, staring out towards the horizon.

“Nothing to worry about here, buddy,” Gabriel replied. That was not a lie, for he was nothing. “Anyways, bigger fish to catch. Quite literally.”

"You're deflecting."

"Hush. Michael’s the big fish, and the whole world is his sea. We are but simple fishermen, casting our rods out aimlessly,” Gabriel mimed the action, casting his invisible rod over the edge of the Bunker roof. “There are plenty of fish out there, Cassie, but we want this one big fish.”

“Gabriel, I’m not sure I’m following whatever point you're trying to make here.”

“Not sure I am either,” Gabriel shrugged, releasing his imaginary rod. “Just decided to ride the imagery, see if it took me to some brilliant plan. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.”

Gabriel watched as the edges of Castiel’s lips quirked upwards, as his gaze turned fond, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. In his books, making his often stoic little brother smile was always a success.

“Come on,” Castiel said warmly, pushing himself up and holding a hand out to Gabriel. “It’s far too cold for you to stay out here, and you still need to eat breakfast.”

Gabriel allowed himself to be pulled up, casting one last gaze back to the horizon. “Didn’t know you were my mother,” Gabriel muttered, following as Castiel moved back inside and down the stairs. “Didn’t know I even had a mother.”

* * *

Breakfast went quickly, and the hours ticked by, with nothing to show.

Sam sighed, rubbing his temples as his head began to throb.

All morning, he'd been calling round, doing check ins. Everyone was fine. He should be happy. The system was working, they hadn't lost a single hunter, they were actually building a network here, and in any other circumstances Sam would be elated.

Not a single word on Michael, though. No sightings, no passing mentions from monsters on hunts, no strange, inexplicable occurrences. 

Nothing.

Stress headaches had become a regular part of Sam's daily routine, and made it so much more difficult to push on working.

Sam left his mobile on the table, still massaging his temples as he wandered towards the kitchen. A coffee would help. A coffee always helped with pushing through and carrying on, and that's what he had to do. That's all he could do.

His plan was put on hold when Sam noticed the kitchen wasn't quite as empty as he'd expected.

He felt like he’d stumbled across a private moment, but couldn’t bring himself to look away, entranced by the soft light that glowed about Jack and Gabriel. They both looked so calm and at peace, perched on the kitchen table, foreheads pressed together, that Sam caught himself smiling, despite everything.

An indefinite amount of time passed, Jack and Gabriel in their trance-like state, Sam captivated by a sight he could only describe as angelic. He wasn’t certain what he’d come to the kitchen for anymore, and found that he didn’t mind.

The gentle glow sang to him; there was no tangible noise, but a warm hum filled his mind, and Sam instinctually knew it couldn’t be anything else. He’d felt the touch of supernatural power before, of angels and demons, of djinns and witches, even of the Devil himself, but Sam had never felt something quite as holy and pure as this.

It was only by the strength of his willpower that Sam didn’t reach out, his fingers itching to brush through the white aura, his entire being begging to be closer.

Though it couldn’t have lasted longer than a minute, the moment felt like an eternity to him, and some primal part of him yearned for it to never end.

Gabriel was the first to pull back, blinking his eyes open, watching fondly as Jack came back to reality, a smile fast growing across his face. As the glow faded, Sam snapped out of his infatuation, blinking a few times as he glanced between Gabriel and Jack.

The gentle humming in his mind had hushed, and his headache was gone, but Sam felt cold and lonely in a way he couldn’t even fully comprehend.

“Can I...?”

“Try it.”

Jack nodded, closed his eyes, and outstretched an arm. Sam followed his line of focus down to a mug on the counter that jiggled a little at first, then began to levitate, following Jack’s guidance.

When Jack opened his eyes, glancing awestruck between the floating mug and his uncle, Gabriel grinned back at him.

It was Gabriel who noticed Sam gaping in the doorway, eyes fixed on the mug Jack was now playing with, dropping and catching it midair. Gabriel laughed and pushed himself off the table, gripping tight to the char beside him. “Hey, kid,” he said, glancing back at Jack, “why don’t you show Sammy what you can do now?”

Jack’s eyes lit up at the suggestion; he placed the mug back down, and bounded over to Sam. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d Jack this happy and responsive.

Warmth bloomed in Gabriel’s chest as he watched how Jack beamed, arms outstretched as he lifted different objects. They still juddered a little, the finer control wasn’t there yet, but now Gabriel had funnelled some of his own grace into the nephilim and jumpstarted the regeneration process, it wouldn’t be long till Jack was capable of great feats again.

“Thank you, Uncle Gabe!” Jack exclaimed as he rushed into the archangel, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders. Gabriel barely kept his balance, stumbling backwards and catching himself before reciprocating. Even with so little grace, Jack still shone brighter than most everyone Gabriel had ever met, and after years in the lonely dark, Gabriel felt like little more than a moth, chasing after the brilliance of souls.

His hand came to rest at the back of Jack’s neck, protective and fond. He smiled and let out a small huff, before reluctantly pulling away, ruffling his nephew’s hair. “You’ll be back up to scratch in no time, kid. Just keep practising, but don’t push yourself too hard, yeah?”

For a brief moment, Jack frowned, and Gabriel found himself regretting his wording. He’d slipped up, ever so slightly, and Jack seemed suspicious. The expression vanished as quickly as it appeared, though, and Jack replied “I won’t, I promise. Can you teach me the cool things as well, when I’m stronger? Dean showed me this film, ‘Back to the Future’, and they travelled through time! Can we do that?”

“Ha! Piece of cake!”

Sam watched fondly as they spoke in increasingly excited tones, each fuelling the other’s wild ideas, but it was bittersweet. Sam couldn’t afford to live in the moment, to shed his responsibilities for a few minutes and relax. They were no closer to finding Michael, and it felt wrong to dwell in moments like these when Dean was still out there, alone and suffering.

It wasn’t fair.

Sam sighed, the last flickers of euphoria rolling from his mind. Part of him selfishly wanted that light back, so he could relax and stop worrying, even for just a few minutes.

All Sam could think of was Purgatory. Every moment he wasn’t actively looking for Michael and Dean felt like a personal betrayal, like Purgatory all over again. Sam hadn’t forgiven himself for that, and he wasn’t certain Dean had either.

Sam hadn’t noticed the chatter dying down between Gabriel and Jack, the excited expressions fading into a calmer contentment. Gabriel straightened himself out, and said “I gotta go crash for a few, that stunt winded me a bit. See you guys for dinner?”

“Sure thing,” Sam replied. He caught the way Gabriel half stumbled out of the kitchen, head dipped a little lower than usual, and made a mental note to bring it up with Gabriel later.

* * *

Back in the security of his bedroom, Gabriel slumped.

His facade clattered to the floor, shattering into tiny pieces, and Gabriel could do no more than just watch. He didn't have the energy to piece together a fake personality again, to force smiles and laughter, and make pretend that he was okay.

He gave himself a moment to pause, to regather himself just enough, and went to the bathroom.

Gabriel stared in the mirror, hands running over his cheeks. The stubble had thickened out now, leaving a heavy shadow beneath his cheekbones. Whilst he certainly didn’t look like Loki anymore, Gabriel wasn’t certain he looked like himself either.

With a sigh, he lifted the razor, bringing it down across his jawline in smooth strokes. His hand was steady but slow, watching as it thinned out into a lighter scruff.

Loki was obsessively clean shaven.

This was different enough.

Suds ran down the sink as Gabriel washed his razor off, swirling into the plug. He placed the razor down and looked up to the mirror again, studying himself.

The person who stared back was still barely recognisable.

The years had weathered his vessel. Crease lines ran across his forehead, where his skin was once smooth, carved out by countless days of screaming and praying and begging. Crow’s feet spread from the corners of his eyes - laughter lines was what he’d heard humans call them, but his were eroded by tears.

The lack of restful sleep had left his skin a shade paler than healthy, and his eyes duller than their usual bright gold. There was no gleam of mischief there anymore, no light of joy glimmering through.

Gabriel lifted his chin, eyes locking onto the one feature he’d been avoiding. That thin pink line mocked him, reminded him of how weak he was, how his only worth was his grace.

He turned away from the mirror, feeling vaguely ill.

As he made the short walk back to his bedroom, hoping like hell that he wouldn't come across anyone, Gabriel began to mentally run through his checklist.

Help Jack. Check.

Apologise to Sam for everything. Check.

Reconnect with Castiel. Check.

Watch the sunrise. Check.

Get Dean back. No check.

Just one box left, and Gabriel knew exactly how he was going to fill it.

Pulling out his desk chair, Gabriel perched on the edge, and stared at the paper laid out on his desk. Words had always been his talent, his God given gift, but right now, Gabriel was struggling to find the right ones to write.

Any combinations he ran through his head just weren’t right - they were too casual, or had the wrong meaning, or felt too emotionally weighted. Gabriel wasn’t even entirely sure what purpose the letters had to serve, he just knew he couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, without giving some kind of explanation, and well, he knew if he tried that conversation face to face, he’d probably end up cuffed to a chair, on permanent house arrest.

He began to write, forced himself to simply write down whatever first came to mind. That way, it was entirely honest. It was a small piece of Gabriel, raw and unfiltered, contained in lines and curves of black ink.

Castiel’s was first, and it was difficult. He’d raised his little brother, fought in wars alongside the seraph, watched him blossom into the wonderfully complex angel he was now, still learning about free will, and exploring his own emotions.

Sam was next, short and sweet and emotionally honest in Gabriel’s own way. Sam had learned how to see past his wit better than anyone, to understand what he was actually saying, behind the joking and the idioms.

Jack’s came last. Jack hadn’t known him long, and whilst Gabriel couldn’t deny it hurt him to know he wouldn’t have a relationship with his nephew, wouldn’t be able to teach him about his ancestry, he was glad Jack hadn’t had time to become attached.

With a swift flick of his wrist, Gabriel signed off the letter with a simple G. He folded the paper over, wrote Jack on the top in a cursive hand, and placed it next to the other two other letters.

They wouldn’t understand. Gabriel knew they wouldn’t understand. They’d argue with him, tell him it was an awful idea, but Gabriel knew he was little more than a pawn on the cosmic chessboard.

The Winchester brothers, and their little haphazard family, they were the important pieces in play. They were the Queens in this interdimensional game, and whilst Dean was off the board, their side was weakened.

A pawn for a Queen.

That seemed like a logical sacrifice to Gabriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh gabriel you dumbass
> 
> as always, comments and kudos absolutely make my day - thank you for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! i have most of the next few chapters already written out, and will aim to never take longer than a week to update <3 most chapters will also be longer than this one (probs double the length), i just needed to set up the scene with this
> 
> comments and kudos are great motivators to get me writing faster ;)
> 
> (p.s. the next chapter features alt versions of some of my favourite characters)


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